Dark Moons
by ForeverDarkly
Summary: Formerly Dark Roads:Tate is back with Sam and Dean permanently now. Now free from her job at the newspaper, strange deaths are occurring on empty stretches of highway. The only thing linking the deaths are that they happen during the week of the full moon
1. Prologue

Hey! Welcome to Dark Roads, Tate is back and the new story is up. I know this might look familiar since I posted it at the end of Dark Room, but I decided to add it here to sorta 'introduce' this story. I hope you guys like this one as much as Dark Room, so keep reading and reviewing. Tate shows up in the next chapter like last time.

**:Prologue :**

**Myrtle Beach, South Carolina**

For eight o'clock on a Saturday night the stretch of high way that lay only fifteen miles from the beach was empty. Weekend traffic couldn't be gone Michael thought as his best friend Jack read him directions to the hotel they were staying at for the next couple days. Michael's sixteen year old sister Brittney sat in the backseat, with her iPod so loud he found himself nodding along to the beat. Next to Brittney was Michael's girlfriend Olivia, her head resting against the window, sound asleep.

"Jack, what exit is it again?"

"Umh...113. We just passed 115, we're almost there." He said as the head lights on the Camry lit up the exit sign. Jack leaned the seat back as far it could go, an inch away from pinning Olivia to her seat. Feeling the pressure on her knees, Liv's eyes snapped opened and caught Jack's smiling face in front of her.

"Put your seat back up dick head. Mike, why did he have to come along?"

"He's my best friend Liv; do we have to go over this again?"

"Yeah Livvie-poo, I'm the best friend." Jack taunted. As a small fight broke out between his friend and girlfriend, Michael slowed up a little at the sight of a car broken down on the side of the road with two young women sitting on the guard rail, each seeming to be searching for service on their cell phones.

"Well you know what Olivia fu...Mike, why are we slowing down? We have to get to the hotel by nine or we have to wait to check tomorrow."

"Look out your window Jack, those girls, I think we should help them."

"Mike! Dad said not to do shit like that."

"And he also said you aren't allowed to curse." Brittney kicked the back of his seat hard enough that he hit his knee on the steering wheel. Michael, despite Jack, Olivia and Brittney's complaints, slowed down to help the girls. Rolling Jack's window down, he leaned over and watched the older of the two girls, a brunette with stunning blue eyes walk over.

"Do you girls need some help?" He asked, never once seeing the way the light from the full moon played upon their features, how their tanned skin began to change, how long flowing hair became coarse and tangled, and how normal sized canines began to form into a mouth full of razor sharp teeth.


	2. Pale Blue Dreams

She's back...Here's Tate. I hope you all like this chapter, its not as long as the ones in Dark Room, but they will get longer. I can tell you all now, you'll learn more about Tate in this story and find out some secrets about her that I still haven't even come up with yet.

**Chapter 1: Pale Blue Dreams**

The pale blue moon light streamed in through the gauzy curtains that hung across the balcony doors in wide and narrow shafts, each casting a different stripe over the king sized bed that rested in the middle of the master bedroom. The bed, which had taken Tate months to get the way she liked, was covered in black silk sheets with a crimson colored bed spread with black and gray swirls running along the hem. The blanket normally laid flat over her and Dean, but that night on her side, the covers had been twisted and gnarled all at the foot of the bed, mirroring the way Tate thrashed on the sheets. Her body moved across the silk violently, tremors and shakes shooting through her. Each quake from her dream sent her in a different direction. Dean's body, out of instinct hugged the edge the mattress, even in his sleep; he knew to avoid her chaotic movements.

Tucked away in the swirling black and gray world of her dreams, an eleven year old Tate stood in the a seemingly empty forest, gray fog swirling around trees larger and taller than she had ever seen, fresh rain filled mud coated the ground below her and not one sound touched her ears, it was deathly quiet. Her small features seemed much smaller than ever before, yet her eyes still looked to wide, round and innocent for a child like her. Wide violet colored eyes opened as far as they could go, trying in vain to seek out what stood before her in the dark and the fog; but nothing seemed to appear. She had no idea where she was or how she had wandered this far from the campsite John and Ben had set up. Part of her knew she should've listened when her father told her to stay by the porch, but stupid Dean and his stupid teasing, saying she was just a girl and wasn't brave enough to go into the woods. She knew that her dad and John had rented the cabin because something lived in the woods, but the kids hadn't been told and Dean dared her to go find it herself. So, here she was, lost in the woods with some monster hiding somewhere. The sound of a branch cracking caught the little girl's attention, purple eyes immediately raced to the spot where the sound came from.

"Dean? Dean, if you're out here, it's not funny." She said, her small hand inching toward her sweat shirt pocket, reaching for the small pocket knife her father told her to carry with her always. Pulling the red retractable knife from her hoodie, she flipped the blade and bravely, like both John and her father taught her, held it out in front of her. Hearing foot falls landing on the dry leaves that decorated the forest floor in most places, she knew right away it wasn't Dean and felt something cold fall into the pit of her stomach; she should've stayed back at the cabin.

"Dean, I mean it, if it's you, you'll be in so much trouble with my dad." Tate said bravely, her voice wavering just a little, just enough to give her away that she was scarred. The sky did nothing for her, she knew like the rest of them, the darkness allowed 'things' to creep from their shadows and walk freely amongst humans, of course she knew that, it was what Ben was training her to do. Over head the full moon hung and glowed brightly, but not enough to cast out the shadows in the woods. Looking around the clearing, Tate swore she watched the shadows come closer, each becoming darker and heavier with each second until they seemed solid. Then it happened, about fifty feet away from where she stood she heard something come crashing through the trees and seemed to be stuck in her stop.

"Dean?" She whispered as whatever it was rushed faster and faster, she could hear the creature's heavy breathing and as it got closer, saw the golden glow from what she guessed were its eyes in the darkness. As the monster reached her, her feet seemed to finally free themselves from whatever was keeping her there, spun around and ran back the way she came. Her knife tumbled from her hand and for a second, she paused to try and get it. But a snarl came from not too far behind her and sent her running again. Sharp branches cut her cheeks, blood rising from the thin little cuts, tears springing into her eyes and a burn tore through her legs. Her hands flew out in front of her, pushing away tree limbs and leaves from her face, new cuts on her hands matched the ones on her face. Behind Tate the sound of feet on the wet ground grew closer and louder, snarls and yips filled her ears and the vision of the small hunting cabin with a wrap around porch, two cars in the driveway and a light on in the front room filled her eyes along with tears.

Tate was only a few yards from the house when her foot got snagged on a gnarled root and sent her crashing to the ground, palms and knees connecting with the wet ground first. She slipped in the mud, sliding a little further across the ground and tried to jump to her feet, but the ground was too wet. Quickly turning over onto her back, a silence piercing howl flooded her ears and with wide frightened eyes, she watched the full grown werewolf that she had been able to out run for so long lung at her from where it sat perched on a fallen tree. Everything moved slowly, the wind that blew through the leaves and caressed her hair, the tears that tumbled down her cheeks and the breath that ran across her lips; everything slowed until the beast hovered right above her. A scream tore from her throat as…

Her eyes snapped open, her body flew out of bed and the shriek she let out in her dream followed her back to reality, her scream echoed across the bedroom walls and spooked Dean enough to send him onto the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, in between screaming and then her hand clutching her chest in an attempt to catch her breath, she had seen Dean's body jolt like he had been struck by lightning and then fell to the floor in what appeared to be a flailing of limbs, tangle of blankets and top sheet and a few sleep filled curses. Soon her breathing evened out enough for her to crawl across the bed and see where Dean had gone. Before she reached the edge of the bed, the door opened and Sam peeked his head around.

"I heard you scream, what did Dean do?" Tate's laugh came out a little too raspy for her tastes and reached for her probably warm glass of water. Feeling the not too warm liquid slide down her throat, she looked down at Dean and tried not to laugh. He was tangled in her blankets and looked like he was about to kill her for what happened.

"He didn't do anything Sam. It was me." She said, attempting to pull a smile across her lips.

"Don't buy it. Are you all right?" He asked, crossing the bedroom in three long strides and then sitting down next to her.

"Is she all right? What about me? I'm the one on the floor." Dean whined, sitting up on his knees and throwing an arm onto the bed.

"Shut up Dean, Tate looks like she saw a ghost." Sam said, going right back at his older brother.

"I think I did…or something like it." Tate mumbled under her breath, toying with a string on her shirt.

"What was that?"

"Nothing Sam, I had a nightmare, that's all."


	3. Changes and Changing

**Chapter 2-Changing and Changes**

Ignoring the heavy looks she felt from the guys, Tate pushed off of the mattress, the sheets falling away from her sweat slicked skin and walked toward the bathroom; the sound of Dean's annoyed sigh never once touching her ears. She was still off in some fog, her feet retracing familiar steps to the large master bathroom and eyes still carrying the images that flashed through her mind moments before. The cool titles of the bathroom fall pulled her from her reverie; her eyes snapping back to focus and slowly moved to the sink, the door slamming behind her.

Long fingers groped along the wall, finally feeling the brass light switch plate and an artificial soft ivory light flooded the small room, a small hiss escaping her lips as she slowly adjusted. With one hand on the vanity, her fingers curling around the soft curving slope of sink, and the other raked through her hair, moving sweaty strands back past her ear ring free ears; she found herself gazing at her reflection and slowly wondered when the person looking out from the mirror had become her. The looks she had used to get her places in the past seemed to flood past her as she looked at herself; long hair fell in tangled strands, the eyes men boasted about seemed to have grown more bloodshot since the night before, her hands shook more than they normally did and her bottom lip seemed to finally be eroding away from all the worrying and biting she did to it. When the hell did that happen she wondered and why the hell hadn't Dean said anything? Leaning almost into the mirror, she gazed deeply at her eyes and saw something she hadn't seen in a long time; the familiar dark ebbing of black around the purple.

The more she looked at her eyes, the further she sank back into her nightmare; she was so far gone she could almost smell the decaying sent of the forest she had stumbled into. The nightmare flashed by in a whirlwind, it went by so fast it made her light headed and caused her chin to drop onto her chest. Something was changing again and she'd be damned if she allowed it to take over once again; it wouldn't happen to her this time. She'd be ready, or as ready as she could be. Cocking her head to the side, she looked at the purple orbs and pulled her bottom lip under her top row of teeth; remembering a time when they weren't purple, but just a normal run of the mill blue. A pale dusty colored blue with nothing interesting to see, not spark or life, just blue. But they had changed and no one still knew why, rather Tate hadn't told them why. It was her own secret and no one needed to know.

"Tate?" Hearing a voice come through the door, she leapt away from the mirror, as if it burned her skin, and pulled open the door. She watched the soft light that made her wince bathe over him and for the first time since she woke up, smiled a real smile. The light played across Dean, catching high lights and adding shadow; making him seem angelic and demonic at the same time. She didn't know whether she liked how the light played on his face at the moment and the shadows rested just on the edges or not; her dream had still had a hold on her. Her eyes locked with his and for a moment she felt as if he knew everything about her, things he knew and things he'd never know unless he needed to. Feeling his hand wrap around her cheek and thumb brush under her eye, right along the bone, she jumped at the touch and nearly recoiled.

"Hey, calm down, it's only me." He almost whispered, moving into her space and pulling her into his arms. The sheet which he had taken with him when he fell was now wrapped around his shoulders and arms, which he quickly draped around her. She felt safe for the first time that night, knowing he was right there.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have backed away."

"You're not yourself right now, I should've waited. What are you doing in here anyways?"

"I washed my face, that's all." She told him, now wishing she had washed her face.

"All right, are you okay now?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good, come back to bed. I sent Sam back to the guest room." He said, kissing her hair and Tate swore she could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Knock it off Dean; I'm not going back in there for that."

"I didn't say for that!"

"I heard it in your voice."

"I didn't say it Tate!" He was getting loud, that was the last thing she needed; a fight. Rolling her eyes, she pushed away from him and headed back to bed, slowly sliding back onto her side. A minute later she felt the same sheet flop down across the bed and then arms lock around her waist.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. Go back to bed Dean. I have to get up in the morning." He dozed off a few minutes later, but Tate couldn't find a way to even force her eyes to close. The thought of having to go through her nightmare again was too much, she knew if she fell asleep just for a second the dream would finish and she'd be trapped under that monster again. The feeling of Dean's breath on the back of her neck even began to bother her; it was too close to the point of creeping her out. After an hour of dealing with it, she moved away and rested her head on her own pillow instead of his shoulder. It was all too much.

The next morning, after fighting with Sam and Dean for a good forty five minutes, Tate found herself in the conference room at the Boston Herald and was trying to keep her eyes open. After going back to bed, she refused to let herself fall back to sleep, therefore falling back into her nightmare and then having to repeat the process again only a few hours later. She listened to her boss, George Rhineland, ramble on and on about how the paper was going to need to improve before the Christmas season, when all of the big companies in the area bought space for adds for their products and stores. But Tate wasn't even in the meeting mentally, she was off somewhere where her nightmare hadn't reached and her right hand scribbled across the yellow memo pad Micah had given her when they walked into the meeting.

She fell back into the thick black and gray fogs of her nightmare, she could feel the rough ground scraping against her back, the wet earth between her small fingers and the scent of wet dog hung heavily around her head; she was right back where she was before she woke up. The scream was still built up in her throat and she remembered it never moved, she screamed when she got back to the cabin. Her eyes went wide when the wolf landed, large forepaws on either side of her head and its snout coming down to sniff her face. Tate had never been more afraid in her life, but when the wolf took a swipe of her face, she crawled away and slammed into the trunk of a tree, her shoulder connecting with a knot in the bark.

"_I am not going to hurt you little one, you have yet to discover what you truly are." _She remembered blinking, thinking the moon light was playing tricks on her and the wolf wasn't really over her and she didn't hear its voice in her head.

"_You're special Tatum. Very special, never let anyone tell you different Ta…." _

"Tatum!" George's booming voice pulled her from her dream and nearly made her fall out of her chair. Her head snapped up too quick and for a minute she saw two Georges, both angry and red in the face.

"Yes Mr. Rhineland?" She muttered, shifting around in the seat and running a hand through her hair.

"Were you sleeping?"

"I dozed off for a minute sir, I'm very sorry. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Outside, now." George growled and pointed to the hallway outside the room. Groaning, she pushed herself out of the chair and as she stood, she looked down at the memo pad and found the face of a werewolf looking back at her. Flipping the paper over, she let out a shaky sigh and followed her boss. This was all she needed. Walking out, Tate looked at George and flashed him a feeble smile.

"Tatum, you've been here for what? Five years?"

"Six in December."

"Yes, six. You've always been the model employee; hard working, always on time, dedicated…"

"Sir, if you're going to fire me, just do it."

"No, no. I'm not going to fire you; I want to talk to you. Micah said you never told him why you left for three weeks without any warning. Is there a reason you didn't tell him?"

"It's my personal life sir; Micah doesn't need to know everything."

"Can you at least tell me?"

"I was covering a case and then I ran into two old friends, things got complicated and then I got caught up again in the case. That's the whole story, everything became a mess."

"He also mentioned that you have two young men living with you. Care to explain?"

"George, its my life, not yours. And just for you information, one is my boyfriend, the other is his younger brother and they're only here for a few more days. Now, if you're going to fire me, do so."

"I want you to take a vacation, get things straightened out and relax; this is the forth meeting you've fallen asleep on since you came back. Get some rest Tate. When you come back, you're job'll still be here." Tate was getting angry; he was firing her without firing her.

"Should I clean out my desk or will that be here too?" She growled.

"Leave your things, don't worry. You can come in and out whenever you want, but I want you to take two weeks off. Just relax."

"Fine, whatever." She spun on her heel, went back into the large office and grabbed her things. Micah looked up at her with fear in his eyes and they grew wider when a cunning smile played on Tate's lips. Leaning down, she came to his ear and ran her fingers along the left side of his chin; her breath caressing the shell of his ear.

"When I get back from my vacation Micah, your ass is mine. I swear, you ever tell Rhineland about my personal life again, I'll kill you and if you don't think I know how to, you are sadly mistaken my friend. You have never seen what I keep hidden in my closets you son of a bitch." She hissed, pushing off of him as she stood back up to her full height. Micah looked up again and was taken away, she was truly an impressive woman; eyes blazing and set, lips curved and a smile that only gave away a small hint at the danger that lurked beneath. She spun on her heel, her ankle high leather boots clapping against the floor as she left the room in a snap of auburn hair and a blur of dark clothing. Back in her office, she picked up her purse and leather jacket; her eyes carefully investigating the werewolf on the paper. Ripping it away from the memo pad's binding, she stuffed it into her purse and left.

Tate walked out, literally leaving the office behind her, her leather jacket perched on the tip of her index finger with it flung over her back; her forearm resting against her chest and the back of her hand stretched out across her shoulder, and strode out onto the sidewalk. Stopping at the curb, she saw the Impala sitting in the parking lot across from where she stood; a smirk on her lips and darted her tongue out to quickly rewet them. Swaying, she wasn't walking it was a sway a natural one not something she had practiced in front of her mirror, across the busy street and came up to Dean, who was resting against the driver's door waiting for her. Smiling again, like she had done to Micah, she tossed her jacket onto the roof and grabbed Dean by the face; lips slammed against lips, teeth clashed and tongues fought. But in the end Tate won as she pressed against him, her own narrow hips smashing against his, and nearly made him and the door one. Pulling away, she sucked in the cool autumn air and looked at him, his eyes as dark as her coat.

"What was that for?" He asked, quickly catching his breath.

"I just told off Micah and it felt so good." She rasped; her body flush against his and traced a nail over his chest.

"Oh." 

"Yeah, oh." Dean liked this Tate, it was the Tate he dreamt about; the leather clad beauty with the dangerous smile, silky sinful voice and dark eyes.

"So what are you doing here?" She asked, pulling out her cigarettes and lighter, a minute later, the thin stick was perched in between her lips.

"I had planned on taking you to lunch." Smiling, a ring of smoke was blown into his face and then she was back; all lips and smoke. When they pulled away this time, his mouth was full of cigarette smoke and everything else that made up Tate; mint, honey and just a hint of something exotic.

"We're not going to lunch; we're going back to my place." She said, tugging him by the winged collar of his jacket and lead him over to the passenger's side.

"I'm driving babe." Tate smiled, pulling the keys from his front pocket, getting her coat and then gracefully sliding into the driver's seat.

"Umh...Sam's back at your place still."

"Do I look like I care?" She asked with an arched eye brow as she tapped her cigarette out the window.

"Nope." 

"Exactly, back to my place." And with that, the Impala came to life under them and tore out of the parking lot. The ride back was an interesting one; Dean had never ridden in the car with Tate behind the wheel. Sure, Sam had, but that was an emergency, one where Tate was the only one able to drive in the car since his kid brother was only thirteen, she and Sam had to go as fast as the car permitted to save Dean from a small coven of angry half human/half bat looking vampires. She drove the car with an ease that he swore only he had; it was like she and the car were one solid being. When the tires went left, she seemed to flow right along with them.

"My baby and my girl; can't get much better." He murmured as he slid across the bench seat and latched his lips onto her neck. The feeling of his lips on her skin caused a tremor to swim through her and caused the car to swerve; a blaring car horn coming from behind and next to her.

"Dean! Knock it off."

"Why? You like it."

"Yeah, but I don't like it when I'm driving. So, unless you want me to run into a lamp post or something with your _baby, _I'd suggest stopping." She said, gripping the wheel tighter as he slid back to the window and rested his arm in the corner of the glass, the other hand resting on his leg and drummed his fingers against his knee cap. Rolling her eyes, she flipped on the radio and turned to a local rock station. The music seemed to make the twenty minute drive feel like two and soon, Tate found herself sliding into a space outside the hotel she lived in. The trip upstairs went by just as fast, even the quick make out session in the elevator.

Walking down the hall to her private suite, Tate fished out her keys and opened the door, Dean pressed up right behind her; kissing and nipping at the back of her neck. Pushing the door open, her giggles seemed to fade away when a sound came from the couch, something between a groan and a whimper, right away something went ice cold inside of her and she pushed away from Dean.

"Aww come on Tate, Sam's probably having a dream."

"I doubt it; don't say anymore about dreams and those noises he's making. I am in no mood to hear it." She told him, hanging her coat on the hall closet's door knob and moved from the foyer to the living room, where Sam's long form took over the couch; one arm resting under his head and the other pressing one of her throw pillows into his face. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she sat down on the edge of the coffee table and reached out for Sam, taking away the black slip-cover covered cushion. He winced when the sun light pouring in through the large window hit his tired eyes.

"Hey Kiddo." She whispered, smiling as she leaned in to brush his hair back from his eyes.

"What are you doing home?"

"Its not important, are you okay?"

"Yeah, its just a headache."

"A headache? One of _those_ headaches?" Dean asked, pushing off the wall and walking over to where his little brother and girlfriend were.

"It might be. I really didn't see much." Sam croaked, sounding this close to passing out on her. Tate, obviously confused and annoyed, looked back and forth at the two and then settled on Dean.

"What kind of headaches and what does he mean he hasn't seen much?"

"I'll tell ya in a minute, where do you keep the aspirin?" Dean asked, shifting from foot to foot.

"Medicine cabinet over the sink in my bathroom. Sammy, wanna go to the guest room and lay down in there?" She asked, standing back up and offering him a hand when Dean turned around, going into the master bedroom. It was a bit of a challenge, but she helped him to his feet and wound up leaning against him more than he was leaning against her.

"When did you get so tall Sammy?" She asked softly as they walked down the back hall.

"In between freshman and sophomore year of high school."

"Why didn't I notice?"

"You were with Dean." He said, smiling a little.

"Oh yes, the 'good ol' days.' I remember those."

"Not now please."

"Later, I'll tell you all about those days." Tate told him as she kicked open the door to the guest bedroom; well it was slowly becoming Sam's room, let go of him, just enough that she was still close, and watched him sit down on the bed. She sat next to him and placed a hand on his knee.

"What's wrong Tate?"

"You are going to spill about these headaches, now." She was firm yet there was something still very 'Tate' about her voice; laid back and calm. And so Sam rambled off a story about 'killer headaches', premonitions and telekinetic powers.

"So, umh…yeah that's its." Sam said, looking down at his hands.

"Okay, cool. So this headache, is it a vision?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna tell me what you saw?"

"All right, there was a car with four kids, an empty highway, the full moon, two girls on the side of the road, it was like their car died or something and then I heard screaming."

"Is that it?" Tate asked; a reason to use her laptop was slowly beginning to form in her head.

"For now."

"For now?"

"Yeah, I could get more."

"All right. Sounds good. I'm going to let you get some sleep; I'll look into what you told me. I'll check the paper's data base and see if I can find any articles sounding like what you told me."

"Tate…"

"Shut up and go to sleep." She told him as she pushed off the bed, kissed him on the cheek and brushed past Dean on her way out. She walked straight across the hall and into her office, turning on her computer before she even sat down. When the machine finally warmed up and turned on, Dean was right behind her.

"What are you doing?" He asked, leaning on the back of her chair, his hands wrapping around the top of the leather back.

"Looking into Sammy's premonition. And why the hell didn't you tell me about that?" She asked, slapping him on the arm.

"Slipped my mind."

"Slipped your mind my ass." She muttered as she went to the newspaper's website and logged in through the employee's sign in. After a few minutes of searching and browsing articles, she tapped on the screen.

"I think I found one."


	4. Author's Note

Author's Note: Creative Team

Sorry about not posting a new chapter with this, but I decided to post the note this way instead. If all of you have read the notes I leave at the top of the chapters in Dark Room, you've read about my Creative Team. This team is actually me, my two friends Carissa and Teresa and sometimes my younger sister. I love reading your reviews and this is kind of like an open casting call. I'm always open to new and different ideas and opinions, so instead of leaving some of them in reviews, that's where this comes n. It's kind of like your own personal input into Tate and Dark Roads and whatever comes after.

So, just send me a message or email through my "personal profile" here or even leave me a something on my Livejournal, the link for that is in my profile too. Think of it as a suggestion drop box where you can leave comments, concerns, opinions and ideas and I'll check it out. But please, word of warning, don't leave some "I hate this and I hate that' kinda thing, that's not what this is for and I'll delete it. So I hope you guys have fun with this and let me know what you all think. Thanks so much. B.E.


	5. A Step Back and then Forward

**Chapter 3- A Step Back and then Forward**

Tate sat curled up in her desk chair, the article she had printed off in her hand and read it again for the third time. Sighing, she found nothing out of the ordinary again and tossed the paper onto the flat polished surface of her desk. Pulling her glasses off the bridge of her nose, she slid them up into her hair and sighed. The article held every detail Sam had given her, but nothing jumped out at her, it just seemed to be an odd death on a dark high way. Her years at the paper had taught her to weed out the odd from the fact and that could be lumped under odd. Stretching, she heard the bathroom door open and saw the light flip off from where she sat, it was Sam. He had been sleeping since she brought him into the guest room hours ago. Dean went to bed about an hour earlier, leaving Tate alone and allowed her to get some work done, but she gotten no where. Hearing feet shuffling against the soft beige rug, she spun around in the chair and found Sam standing in the doorway, his tall frame leaning against the wood work.

"Hey." He said softly before yawning.

"What are you doing up Sammy?"

"Had to use the bathroom. Why are you still awake?"

"Working late, that's all."

"I thought your boss told you to take vacation."

"I wasn't working on that, I was working on that article I found."

"What article?" He asked, stepping into her office.

"Oh that's right, you were sleeping. Here." Giving him the article, she leaned over her desk and pushed back the thin gossamer curtain, looking out onto the empty streets below. Every so often a car or two rumbled down the street or a few people scurried by on the sidewalk, but that was it. The light from the waning full moon bathed everything in pale blue ink and created shadows everywhere. For a second, Tate swore she saw three figures looking right up at her, blinked a few times and looked away, she chalked it up to nothing more than a trick of the light.

"What do you think?" Sam asked, pulling her back from the window and out of her thoughts, and looked at Tate.

"I'm not sure, yeah dismembered bodies, pieces everywhere and no clue about what happened. Sure, I mean its sounds like something we should look into, but part of me says it's just some freaky killing. I don't know Sammy. We'll have to talk to Dean."

"Want me to wake him up?" Sam asked with a devilish grin.

"Sam, its three in the morning, he'll kill you."

"Fine, I'll wait. You take the fun out of everything."

"No, I don't need him killing you; you're the smart one Sammy." She said, tugging playfully at his hair. "Go back to bed."

"You go to bed." He told her.

"Yeah, yeah Sammy." She said bringing her glasses back down over her eyes, leaving her office and making sure the front door was locked before heading to her bedroom.

xXxXx

Down on the street below Tate's apartment stood the three figures she thought she saw; two women and a man. The women; one a fiery redhead and the other with hair as dark as the night sky, each looked up at her office window and waited for the curtain to creep back again. The man, his arms crossed over his broad chest, watched the street and rolled his eyes annoyingly.

"Girls, lets go. She's not coming back to the window."

"Calm down Rex, she'll be back. She always up late." The redhead hissed, looking at her dark haired friend.

"Maybe she went to sleep Kris." The ebony haired one said, looking at the redhead, Kris.

"I doubt she went to bed Jules, we've been watching her since she came back, and she's always up late." Kris said, licking her lips.

"Who was that in the room with her?" Rex asked; looking at the two women he had been assigned to work with for the past few weeks.

"It was the younger one; she's been with him most of the day."

"Where's the older one? And do we know where the old men are?"

"The older one went to sleep about an hour ago, I saw him walk down where we're guessing the back hall is to the master bedroom. And the old men, their fathers, no one has sighted them in weeks." Kris answered as she began to pace the sidewalk, her heels clipping pavement with every step. Both women wore dark jeans, jackets and shirts, Rex was dressed the same way; the three were able to hide in the shadows if need be.

"So what one are we going to go after? The woman or the brothers?" Jules asked, her hand wrapping around Kris' arm and stopped her mid-step.

"The woman has no idea what she is yet, so we wait for that. I'd say one of the brothers."

"But what one Kris? Make it quick, I want to get out of this concrete hell, I'm starving." Rex nearly growled, his eyes shifting from their normal chestnut brown to a deep molten gold.

"Calm down Rex, we'll leave soon. Jules, if we're going after one of the brothers, I'd say the older one. She loves him and it'll be perfect, we'll get rid of him and her at the same time."

"What about the younger one?"

"Do you think he'll just let her run into our trap? We'll get the three of them at the same time. Now let's go before Rex starts drooling on the sidewalk." Kris said as she walked out from under the balcony and headed across the street. The three retraced earlier steps and made for the tree line that rested just a few hundred yards away from the hotel. Rex shed his jacket and dove into the thick woods, tree trunks and moon darkened leaves hid him from the rest of the world.

"Rex! We've been over this! You can't just drop clothes like this, people might catch on!" Kris yelled after her companion. But she received nothing more than a few guttural moans and then a long howl as an answer.

"Great, just great. Jules, hide this somewhere and this too." She said, handing Rex's and now her own coat to the other woman and took off into the dark woods after the now changed creature.

xXxXx

Tate had been standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing her teeth when she heard a wolf's howl come from the small clump of trees outside her hotel. Now she stood, hiding behind the curtains of her bedroom window, and looked outside. The woods across the street were nothing special, just a small clearing that the town had turned into a park/recreational area by adding trees, a man made pond, picnic tables and play grounds; it was named after Mayor Tim Weston, the man who decided to do something with the empty space. She had never heard of anything large than a beaver, the occasional swan and once, she swore she saw a fox, but it could've been a dog, living in that park. But a wolf? She had never even dreamt of seeing one across the street. In the window, she saw a light turn on behind her, it was the light on her night stand, and watched Dean's reflection in the cool glass panes.

"Baby whatcha lookin' at? You okay?" He mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he pushed himself up off the bed and rested on his elbow.

"I'm fine Dean, I was just looking outside." She said softly, letting the curtains fall back and walked over to the bed. She had changed earlier into a pair of pajama bottoms and one of Dean's old t-shirts. Sliding across the untouched part of the blankets, she sat cross legged in front of him and touched the side of his face, smiling when he rubbed his cheek against her palm.

"What are you doing up still?" Dean asked; his voice still rough with sleep.

"I was working, but I'm done for the night."

"You should be; it's almost four." He said as he pulled the blankets back up around him and moved, making room for her right in front of him. Smiling a little, she lay down, chest to chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Get some sleep; I don't need you passing out on me." Dean whispered as he kissed her hair and shut his eyes. Tate didn't fall asleep right away, she just lay in bed, listening to Dean's breathing and heart beat, taking in the sounds around her and let her mind drift. She knew him and Sam were going to leave soon, another case would come up and when she'd see him again would be back up in the air. It had been so much easier when they were kids, all she had to do was walk a few feet to the next hotel room to find the boys, but now ever since she left, things were so different. When she was kid, everything was so much easier; all she had to do was tell her father there was a monster under her bed and he'd come in, guns blazing, and take care of it. Now, she was the one who needed to come up with some kind of plan, figure out what the monster was, how to kill it and pray that when she did kill the _thing_, that no 'monster-goop' got on her brand new sheets.

Feeling sleep tug on her eye lids, she let herself fall into the darkness and hoped for a better result than earlier, where her previous nightmare had come back full force; sending her flying off the couch and into the rug face first. The gray fog that usually trapped her in the night changed into something different, not a forest but a living room in some house Tate had been in as a child.

_"Why is he crying like that?" A ten year old Tate squeaked, her hands clamped around her ears and peered over the couch at Sammy, who was sitting on the floor in the mess of action figures and coloring books she had given him. Loud wails tore from the small boy and huge rain drop like tears leaked from his eyes. Dean, who sat at the coffee table, didn't seem at all bothered and went back to building something with the Legos John and Ben had bought the three kids. She had met the boys only a few weeks earlier and now was spending more and more time with them; she wasn't enjoying it. Garrett on the other had thrived off of it. He had been around Tate his entire life and 'guy friends' were a rare thing in the King house hold. He followed Dean around more than Sam did and usually where you found Dean, Garrett and Sam weren't too far behind. _

_"Dean! Make him stop crying!" Tate whined again, this time tossing a crayon at the older boy's head. He wasn't that much older than the twins, but he had enough months on them to brag about it. _

_"You do it!" He growled, clipping two pieces together, making what looked like a wall of something that could become a fort._

_"He's your brother!"_

_"You're a girl! You're supposed to know how to fix these things." Garrett's blue-purple gaze tore away from the television and looked at his female reflection; he could feel his twin getting mad without even looking at her. Tate hated when things like that were said about her being a girl, she was the only girl Garrett knew and he knew, she was tougher than Dean. She wouldn't be a girly little princess; that was for sure. He looked at Dean, a mix of fear, a hint of mischief and laughter and a smidge of remorse dancing in his eyes as he watched the two across the room from him. Tate, who now sat perched on the arm of the couch, her eyes lit with anger, clenched her fists and bit down on her lip. Instead of leaping off the couch to punch the boy or ruin his Legos, she took a deep breath and gracefully slid off the chair, her small feet hitting the rug with a plop._

_"Fine, I'll fix it." She said with a smug little grin. Dean and Garrett both looked at the girl, their jaws dropped and watched her pad across the room and sit down near Sam. Garrett leapt off the floor and climbed over the back of the couch, watching his older sister. The older girl sat down next to Sam, dried his eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and then poked the six year old in the stomach, a minute later cries turned into giggles._

_"Why were you crying?" Tate asked, brushing back the little boy's hair and wiping a tear that she had missed away._

_"No one wants to play with me." Sammy said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand; Tate would only do so much. Instead of swiping at his nose, she reached up and ruffled his hair, a smile tugging on her lips when he swatted her hands away. _

_"I'll play, what's going on?" She asked, picking up a G.I. Joe. A minute later, a battle erupted on the carpet and Sam's crying seemed to already be a distant memory. _

_On the other side of the room, Garrett still sat looking over the couch; he had never seen Tate act this way before. She was sweet and gentle with Sam, like his own mother had been with the two of them. It was probably the same way Mary treated the boys before she died too. _

_"What's she doing?" Dean asked, looking up over his fort and pulling Garrett back from thinking about his mother._

_"She was tickling him, now they're playing."_

_"Why?" A minute later, Dean joined Garrett and watched. _

_"He stopped crying. She fixed it Dean." Both boys watched in awe as she worked her magic- played Soldiers with him and colored. Later, when Garrett and Dean went off to bed and then when John and Ben came home from wherever they had gone, the two men found Sam and Tate asleep on the couch, Sam curled under Tate's arm and one of those Golden Book fairy tales draped over a pillow. _

The sound of doors slamming outside her bedroom pulled Tate from her dreams and everything around her came crashing onto her ears; the television on in the living room, the coffee pot going in the kitchen, Dean cursing at something Tate was most likely going to have to replace and Sam laughing at his older brother. It was odd, her latest dream, it was a memory but at the same time it was a dream, felt so real. She could feel the crayon she threw at Dean or the way Sam's tears leaked through her sleeve. Blinking a few times and shaking out the cobwebs, everything came into a blurry focus and she watched as the blurry form that was her own arm reach out for her glasses. Slipping the thin black frames on, everything was sharp and truly focused again. After brushing her hair, she stumbled out into the living room and found Sam sitting on the couch; his feet propped up on coffee table and flipped through the channels.

"What's he doing in there?" She asked her voice still rough with sleep.

"He was making eggs, but that went to hell. Should I go help him?"

"Please, before he burns the place down." Tate said as he went into the kitchen. Walking through the living room, she made her way to the front door and opened it, bending down to pick up the paper. On the front page was a photograph taken by Jordan Peters, a man she worked with, of what appeared to be a police scene and a white sheet draped over a body. The headline, in bold black letters, did its job and caught her attention; **_"Horror Strikes Weston Park; Death." _**


	6. Freaky and Fancy

Ok, for all of those who have been waiting for Sam to get a girl, I've finally given him one. He doesn't really 'get' her in this chapter, but you meet her and I got an email asking for a "Un-Sam" like girl and I think I did that very well. So I hope you like her and this chapter.

**Chapter 4- Freaky and Fancy **

Weston Park was normally quiet at nine on a Saturday morning and only had a few early-bird joggers running the concrete lap around the interior of the park, but not that morning. Police cars, ambulances, a fire truck and the Impala all hugged the curving sidewalk that wrapped around the park. Police tape linked trees together and roped off a huge area near the lake. Tate slipped easily under the police tape; her camera bag over her shoulder and press pass dangling from her neck.

"Miss King, I was wondering when you'd show up." Officer Richard Kirk of the Boston Police Department said as he walked over to where Tate now stood.

Looking at the older man, she smiled and batted her eye lashes. Richard was a handsome man, close clipped black hair, olive skin with pale sky blue eyes. His younger brother Jacob looked the same way, just his hair was longer and he looked a hell of a lot better in uniform. Richard, Jacob and Tate had a history. She had dated Jacob when she first got her job at the paper; she walked past the police station everyday for work and literally bumped into the young cop one rainy morning. From there, it was love at first sight, the two were always together. His mother adored her and called her 'wife material', telling Jacob she was a better catch than her daughter in law Allison. But when Jake asked Tate to marry him after dating for almost two years, Tate backed out and rumor had it, broke Jake's heart and almost cost him his job on the force. Richard was still a bit bitter about their break up; she was the best thing beside the police force that ever happened to his younger brother.

"Hey Richy. I see you're here bright and early." She said cheerfully, that fake smile she had put on when she first saw him seemed to get wider.

"It's Officer Kirk, Miss King." He said gruffly as the two locked eyes.

"Whatever _Officer_." She said sarcastically as she walked around the area, her camera out and the flash going off every few steps when she found something she deemed important.

"So who are these two? Your camera crew?" Kirk asked, nodding to Sam and Dean. Before Dean could open his mouth to make a wise ass comment or Sam to throw out a lie, Tate stood back up from examining the mud on her boots and rushed back over, standing in between the boys and Kirk.

"They're interns down at the paper, I brought them down with me; you know field experience Richy." She said smiling again, this time stepping into his personal space and fingering the badge on his chest. For a minute, she swore he was falling for her old tricks and then quickly brushed her off like she was a gnat.

"Whatever Tate, just do your job and stay out of my way. And make sure those two stay with you." He said as he walked away and headed over to his squad car, grabbing the CB radio. Tate smiled; she was still in ear shot and smiled when he looked at her.

"Okay Richy, tell your mom I said hi and give Jake my best. And tell Allie and the kids I said hi too!" She called as he waved her off and rolled his eyes.

"Just do the job we're not supposed to pay you for!" He yelled back, going to talk to another officer. The minute she saw him disappear from her sight, she went back to her job and was about to load another roll of film when Dean stepped into her shot of a blood stain running into the lake.

"Excuse me Winchester, but I'm busy. If you didn't hear Kirk, I get paid to do this." She said as she moved around his foot and tried to get her shot lined back up.

"No."

"No?" Tate mimicked, standing up straight and looking Dean in the eyes. "Why did you say that?"

"Who was that and why were you hanging all over him?" Dean asked but it was apparent to anyone with eyes that Tate had no idea what her boyfriend was talking about.

"Who's who? Dean, I'm trying to work here."

"That police officer?" He said as Sam watched the two, rolling his eyes. This always happened between them; Tate had guy friends she goofed around with and Dean would get jealous.

"Richy? Are you kidding? You're jealous of Richy? First of babe, he's married, has a great wife, two kids and another on the way. Second, sadly I love your stupid ass and would never do that. So, buddy boy, you have nothing to worry about, and I was just messing with him. Now move." She bit out, walking down the lake, following a trail of sneak tracks.

"But you were hanging on him!"

"I was messing with him! I do it every time I see him or his brother Jake. Jesus Dean, I do have friends. Sam, do me a favor, take your jackass of a brother and go see what you can find out from the cops. Tell them you're with me and the paper." Sam nodded and grabbed Dean around the arm, pulling him away from Tate, but not before Dean could say something.

"When we leave, we are talking about this."

"Uh-huh, you always say that when shit like this happens. Go away." She said, dismissing the two as she went back to her work. As the day wore on it turned into one of those famous autumn Boston days, foggy and wet. It started raining only an hour after being there and the ground, now wetter than when she had started, slipped under Tate's feet every time she took a step. She had fallen twice, the ass of her jeans covered in mud and grass; her lens had some mud on it too. Despite the weather, she was getting the shots she and the police needed. Around eleven, she came to where the body bags laid, three officers stood over them.

"Miss King, do you need to take pictures of this?"

"I'm sorry Officer, but I do. Can you unzip the bags? I don't have any gloves." The officer nodded and slowly unzipped one of the two bags. The first bag was what used to be a young woman, probably her age with what looked like black hair. She was only a torso with chucks of a right leg and a left shoulder left. Organs, the ones that were left, spilled out into the bag. Tate closed her eyes and for a minute, every thing began to spin.

"Are you all right Miss King?" Not trusting her voice, she nodded and with shaky hands pulled her camera up to her eye. Five pictures later, that was all she could stand to take, they closed the woman's bag and she nodded when the officer reached for the other. The other was worse, but this time horribly, she didn't have to stare into two undead eyes. This body was intact, save for the slit abdomen and lack of organs; it was just missing a head.

"Where…where's the head?" She asked, her hand over her mouth trying not to throw up.

"They're trolling the lake for it right now."

"Oh God." She said, gagging. Before she knew what was happening, she doubled over and her breakfast came back up. She felt warm hands on her back and looked up, after wiping her mouth, at Sam.

"Are you done for the day?" He asked his hand still on her back and smiled warmly at her.

"Yeah, I think I am. Where's Dean?"

"In the car, he's 'pouting' and told me to come find you. He's sick of this 'lousy God forsaken weather' and wants to leave." He told her as she stood back up and spit onto the ground, nearly missing his shoe.

"He sounds like my father when the weather gets this way." She said as she wiped her mouth off and spit again, she hated what happened back there, it was unprofessional and on top of that, embarrassing.

"Did you find anything interesting?"

"I found what looks like a wolf print near the lake where the found the girl's body, I took a picture of it. I'll develop it later Sammy. But I think I have an idea of what's going on here." She said, walking in step with the taller young man.

Following Sam back to the Impala, she said he goodbyes to certain officers and finally slid in the back of the car. Smiling at the 'uber-pout' Dean was giving her in the rear view mirror, she leaned herself over the front bench seat and grabbed him by the chin, kissing him. When she pulled away, she laughed at the disgusted look on his face and quickly sat back down.

"What the hell happened to your mouth?"

"I threw up." She practically beamed. "That'll show ya, don't mess me while I'm working."

"That's disgusting Tatum." He said, nearly choking on her full name.

"Just drive Winchester."

"Where are we going? Not back to your place right?"

"No we're not Sammy. Dean, I need you to go into town and find Fancy's, it's a bar. I need a drink."

xXxXx

"Fancy's" looked far from fancy on the outside and wasn't even open at twelve in the afternoon. The sidewalk in front of the bar was cracked and crumbling below Tate, Sam and Dean's feet. The old bricks were weather-worn and faded. Signs, ads and flyers in the huge front window were sun bleached, yellowing and curling up at the edges. Over the heavily painted forest green door was a green and white awning with "Fancy's" stitched in gold letters.

"Tate, how are we getting in? It's not open." Sam questioned as he pulled his hood over his head and looked in through the window at the darkened and empty bar.

"I have a key, don't worry."

"And why do you have a key?" Dean asked, jamming his hands into his pockets.

"Because my friend owns it." She said, pulling a small bronze key from her key ring and slid it into the lock. Turning the knob, the door opened and the three rushed in to get out of the rain. Tate, knowing her way around, walked in the darkness and found the wall behind the bar; a minute later light flooded the small space. Tate poured herself a shot of Jack Daniels before pulling open a door that seemed to be apart of the wood paneled wall.

Dean stood in the middle of the bar, after watching Tate pulled open the well hidden door and looked around. The bar took up the whole back wall, glasses and bottles lined the shelves above the back counter, stools were hidden under the counter top and in the center were the beer taps. Small round tables and a handful of booths dotted the polished hardwood floor. In the right hand corner of room was a small dance floor and a stage for the house band to play. Dean smiled, he liked this place. The walls were decorated with old concert posters; there were so many all over overlapping and covering others that it looked like wall paper. Dean was looking at a Rolling Stones poster when he heard Tate's voice.

"Fance!" She yelled up the set of stairs, they were behind the door she had opened a few minutes before. "Fancy! Get your ass down here!" Tate yelled up the steps that most likely led up to an apartment and heard movement come through the floor above her.

"This better be good Tatum, if not, you my dear, are so fucking dead." A woman's voice came down the stairs and Tate laughed. A minute later a young woman around Tate's age appeared on the bottom step. Her ear length hair was sticking out in angles Dean figured it wasn't supposed, like she had just woken up, her tanned face held a pair of wide chestnut colored eyes with smudged remains of eye liner from the night before under them and she wore a rumpled Zeppelin shirt and boxer shorts.

"Oh Jesus, Tate you brought people with you! I just woke up! I don't even know if I'm alone upstairs yet!" She hissed as Tate laughed louder. Fancy turned to look at Sam and Dean and smiled. "Excuse me, I need to get dressed. If you haven't noticed, Tatum here forgot to mention you two. Just give me a minute." She said quickly and sharply, yet still on the edge of polite.

"You are so fucking dead, King." She told Tate as she ran back up, muttering death threats to the "loud, obnoxious, stupid ass reporter". Tate; not phased that Fancy had settled upon slipping something in her drink and beating her to a nothing more than a bloody puddle, hopped up on the counter and looked around. This was the first place she had found in Boston and Fancy was her first friend; letting her crash on her couch 'till the Hilton and the Boston Herald took her in. She watched Sam and Dean sitting in the corner on the stage talking about something. They were lost in the conversation, normally one of them would feel her eyes on them, and Tate smiled as she watched Sam. She remembered him as a kid, always wide eyed and looking up to Dean with this look of "younger brother/hero worship" in his eyes; Garrett had looked up to Dean the same way.

Fifteen minutes later, Tate heard the familiar sound of Fancy's boots on the stairs and turned to look at her. Now she looked like Fancy; red and black eye shadow covered now cat-eye yellow colored eyes, the contacts looked good on her, with thick eye liner underneath and mascara completed the look. In her nose, lip and eye brow were familiar silver earrings and her black and purple hair was back to normal; angled and straightened around her face. Instead of pajamas, she now wore an overly fitted red beater and black leather pants.

"Hey there Fancy Pants." Tate said, looking at her only girlfriend.

"Don't call me that, I hate that nickname. Why are you here so early?" She asked, getting a drink.

"Dean pissed me off, I needed a drink."

"Now which one is he? The adorably tall string bean or the shorter one with the lips?" Fancy asked, eyeing both of them.

"The lips."

"Lucky bitch, have I mentioned how much I hate you?"

"Everyday."

"So who's the string bean?"

"Sam."

"Wait…that's 'Little Sammy'? No wonder you wear glasses." Tate laughed and stole a sip from Fancy's beer.

"He used to be my height, but he had growth spurt when he was fifteen. He went from 5'8 to 9'6 in three months; Dean's still pissed off about that."

"I would be too, so is he single?"

"Francesca!" Tate yelled so loud that Dean looked up and arched an eye brow. Fancy had seen Tate with enough guys over the five years she had known her to know the difference between love and "I wanna get in your pants" in her guys' eyes; Dean had it bad.

"Lucky bitch." Fancy muttered as Tate looked back at him, telling him she was fine. Once she looked back at her, Tate's purple eyes locked on her.

"I forgot how blunt you are when you're sober; it's been a while since I've seen you this way." Fancy frowned and let out a low growl. "And yes, he's single but it's complicated. It's a long story."

"I'm always up for story time." Fancy said, getting a stool.

"I dunno if I should tell you Fance, he barely told me."

"You've told me everything else; about your 'other' job, your dad, their dad, them, whatever that thing is that I'm convinced eats my clothes in my closet is real and that you're a…." Tate clamped her hand over Fancy's mouth before she could say anymore.

"Shut up Fancy! They don't even know that or that I told you!"

"Told her what?" Tate looked up at Dean and smiled, her eyes dancing back and forth between the two of them.


	7. Thunderstruck

Here's chapter five and I can't take all the credit for writing this chapter. A good chunk of it was written by my friend Carissa. I wrote the beginning and half of the middle, from there to the end is a lot of what she wrote with some changes added to fit the scene since she wrote the parts I used before I wrote this. So I hope you guys like what we came up with. B.E

**Chapter 5- Thunderstruck**

"Tell her what Tate?" Dean asked again and this time Tate held his stare, not blinking or back away, but her mind was working a mile a minute. She still hadn't told them all she had told Fancy and she was drunk at the time, she couldn't exactly control what she said.

"I was going to tell her about what happened at work the other day." She said calmly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Oh, that 'paid vacation' bullshit?"

"Yeah, that." She said as she slid off the counter top and dropped down onto a stool. She had just gotten comfortable when there was knock on the window in the front door; Tate could make out a soaked figure through the rain covered glass.

"Its Sam right?" Fancy asked, looking right at Sam.

"Yeah."

"Be a peach and get the door for me, its probably one of the guys from the police station, I open up at lunch time for them." She said, running her finger across his hand before he backed away from the counter, a smile on his face, and went toward the door.

"You are horrible." Tate said; leaning over as Fancy brought Dean a drink.

"I know I am and you are…oh shit, look who just walked." Fancy muttered as Tate did what she said and felt her jaw drop. In the door way, on the step in front of the door that dropped down into the bar stood Jacob Kirk, her ex-fiancé. He wasn't wearing his police uniform, but instead wore a pair of jeans with a plain black t-shirt with his gun in its holster at his waist and his leather jacket over his shoulders; rain running down it in small streams. His hair, that he refused to make regulation length dripped into his eyes and for a minute, Tate was focused on the rain drop the trickled down his cheek bone.

"Tate?" Fancy's voice sounded like it was miles away and it took her ten seconds to snap out of it. She shook her head, blinked until she almost lost her contacts and spun to look at Dean, making sure he hadn't seen what had happened. He didn't, he was back to talking with Sam.

"Fancy, do something about him."

"What do you want? Sure, he's your ex but he's my rent money. So, he stays." She said as she walked over and pulled Jake into a slight hug.

"Long time no see Jacob, I know your brother taught you better." She said as she brought him back to the bar and Tate tried to hide under it.

"Sorry, I've been busy. I moved in with my girlfriend Vicky so things have been kinda crazy. Tate, is that you?" Jake's voice hit her ears and for a minute she forgot Dean was sitting next to her, now looking at the young police officer.

"Hey Jakey."

"Wow, Tate you look…wow." He said as he hugged her.

"Thanks, you look good too. So, you're still with Vicky?"

"Yeah, she got a new apartment and I moved in with her. It's nice, I mean its nothing like the place we had together, but it's still nice."

"I still have that place, I redecorated though."

"No more cop stuff hanging around?"

"Nah, I got rid of all that, repainted the place, redid the floors, bought new furniture; you moved out so I kinda did the whole 'clean slate' thing." She said and swore she could feel Dean's eyes burning wholes in her back.

"You painted and redid the floors? Why didn't you call me and Richy? We would've done it. Thanks Fance." He said as she put a beer in front of him and quickly, before she went to the other side of the bar, gave Tate a sympathetic look.

"I didn't want to be a bother to you guys and besides, by the time I started this, you and Vicky had just gotten together. I didn't want to call you up to come help your ex-fiancée redo her apartment." And just like that, Tate knew she had said the wrong thing; she heard Dean's stool scrape the floor and watched him come into her line of sight. Dean stood right in front of Jake and looked at him, each starring each other down.

"I'm Dean, her boyfriend." Tate rolled her eyes and buried her face in her hands.

"I'm Jake, her ex-future husband. Tate, you didn't tell me you were dating again."

"And you didn't tell me you still talked to this guy." Dean said, giving her a cold look.

"Yeah well I do talk to him still and the reason I didn't tell you was because it just happened. So Jake, how about I buy you dinner one night and we'll catch up? I've been out of town; I remember how much you liked to here about what I did when I went away on assignment."

"Sounds great, you didn't change your number along with the color of the living room, didya?"

"Nah, it's still _our_ old number."

"Great, I'll give ya a call." He said, walking past Dean and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Fance, thanks for the beer, I'm gonna get outta here. We gotta catch up sometime too."

"Of course Jake. I might just tag along when you and Tate go out to dinner."

"Sounds like a plan. Bye ladies, it was nice to meet you Dean." Tate watched as Dean nodded and then Jake walk back out into the rain, a breath she been holding in escaped her lips. Dean turned back to look at her and Tate backed up, almost sitting in Sam's lap.

"We have to talk, now!" Tate looked up at him and tried to smile, but he turned and walked toward the stage before he could even see it. Sam and Fancy looked at one another and silently a plan was made.

"Tate, sweetheart, Sam and I are gonna take off. Let you and Dean work this out, I'll be back in an hour. Come on Sam." Sam gave Tate a hug, kissed her on the cheek and walked out; Fancy mirrored Sam's actions and followed him. Once she was left alone, she looked over at Dean and found him pacing the stage.

"We're alone, you can yell now." She said calmly.

"Ex-fiancé! He lived with you! Tate, what else don't I know about you?"

"A whole hell of a lot."

"But he lived with you! He slept in our bed, ate in our kitchen, was in our shower…" Tate jumped to her feet, cutting him off; she seemed to cross the floor in two steps and was right in Dean's face, her eyes glowing.

"What do you mean, _our_? We don't live together; you crashed at my place, that's all. You showed up on my door three weeks ago with flowers and those damn puppy dog eyes saying "me and Sammy need a place to stay until we get a new case, can we stay with you?" We don't live together! Jake and I did! He moved in with me! And yes, ex-fiancé! We were going to get married but I backed out. It was only about year ago that I backed out and do you know why? Do you want to know? Answer me Dean and don't look at me like that, you've had this coming all day."

"Why?" Dean asked, looking down at Tate with fear in his eyes.

"You're stupid ass father calls me saying he has a lead on that damn demon that killed your mother and asked me to help, to take up the research end to help him find exactly where it would strike next. Next thing I know he's calling me about Sammy's little girlfriend Jess. Jacob's a cop, he's seen and heard a lot, but do you honestly think he'd believe me if I told him I couldn't marry him because my dad's best friend called me to help him hunt down a demon that kills its victims by pinning them to the ceiling and then torching their houses? Do you think he would? No! So I told him I wasn't ready to be married and backed out! Because your father called me, I left him! I gave up my life for him, for you guys again! Now, got any other complaints about what you just saw between me and him?" She asked, tears running down her cheeks.

"No, no more complaints."

"Good. I'm leaving. Stay here till Fancy gets back." And without another word, she took off. Dean watched her get a cab and most likely head back to the hotel. She did just that, she headed back to the Hilton and headed to the front desk, calling up the valet service and asked for her car. A few minutes later, her '69 Mustang appeared at the curb and she walked out to meet her valet. After tipping the man, she hopped in and wrapped her fingers around the wheel; it had been too long since she last drove it.

With the key in the ignition, Tate felt the Mustang awaken beneath her. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scents which we're flowing around her in a whirlwind; leather, her own perfume, cigarettes and just a hint of Dean. Pulling away from the curb, Tate soon hit the gas, sending the Mustang soaring down the nearly-empty street like a bat out of hell. Her custom crimson baby was speeding down the rain-slicked roads to nowhere, with Tate behind the wheel.

xXxXx

Two and a half hours, Sam and Fancy came walking down the sidewalk, his arm slung over her shoulders and hers around his waist. The two spent the afternoon talking over sandwiches at a deli down the street from the bar. Coming to the front window, Fancy looked in and sighed.

"Your brother's there but Tate's gone."

"The Impala's still here, she must've taken her car. Where do you think she went?"

"Probably upstate into Maine maybe. We have friends up in Bangor." Fancy grabbed Sam's wrist and turned it to look at his watch. "She's probably flying through Augusta by now, that's more than half way there. Knowing the way she drives when she's pissed, she could be in Bangor by now."

"I'm going to check on Dean." Sam said as he slipped away from Fancy and into the bar. Dean sat at a table near the bar, toying with the charm that hung from his neck, his eyes cast downward and refused to look up at the sound of the door slamming shut behind Fancy.

"Dean? Dean, what happened?" Sam asked, taking a seat next to his older brother.

"What do you think?"

"Did she break up with you?"

"No!"

"She left; did she say where she was going?" Fancy asked, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"No, she just left. She got a cab and must've gone back to the hotel to get her car. She was so pissed at me. She told me what happened between her and Jake."

"You mean why she didn't marry him?"

"Yeah."

"I was the only person she told about that, she left Jake because your father needed help with that demon." Sam and Dean both looked up at her, eye brows arched and jaws almost hitting the table top.

"She told you about what we do?"

"Of course she did Sammy."

"And you believe her?"

"Why not? It sounds logical and it also sounds very arrogant to think humans are the only things that walk this earth. Besides, I always knew Tate was a little weird." She told them as she sat across from Dean. "How could you let her leave like that Dean?"

"I…I, I don't know. Sam, why didn't you talk to her before? I mean, at the park to calm her down about the thing with the other cop?"

"You're not going to blame this on me, Dean. You're the one who pissed her off to begin with. She's friends with that cop."

"Wait, what cop? Richy?" Fancy asked, looking at the two of them.

"Yeah him."

"Oh please, those two are always like that. She pushes his buttons and he pushes hers."

"I don't care Fancy; we all have to look out for one another around here, I mean look what happened to her last time we let her out of our sight." Dean said and knew Sam regretted what happened to Tate with that Dark Room Ghost.

"Said the insensitive loud-mouth who should take his own damn advice sometimes!" Dean glared at Sam, but was startled by a crack of lightning which didn't seem too far away.

"Give me your cell phone, I have to call her."

"Use your own damn Minutes Dean."

"Give me, your goddamn, phone."

"Oh for God sakes!" Fancy said as she reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out her phone, tossing it to Dean. "Her number is in my phonebook." She told Dean as Sam mouthed 'thank you' to her. A minute later, Dean looked up.

"I think she turned the damn thing off, she's not answering, it's going to voicemail."

"Ever think she wants some time away from your jealousy?" Sam asked, arching an eye brow.

"You don't know what it's like."

"Excuse me? Oh you're kidding right? I don't know what it's like!" Dean caught his breath mid-way, knowing he shouldn't have said what he said.

"I… shit. I'm sorry Sammy. I just…"

"It's Sam. And you know what Dean? Stop your bullshit. I'm sick of it, and Tate's made it clear that she is too."

"And you have to know something Dean, she didn't take that kinda crap from Jake. He didn't dare fight with her about friends and her life, he knew better." Fancy said as both she and Sam backed away from the table, each getting ready to go find Tate if need be.

Dean looked up at his bigger, younger brother and girlfriend's best friend, and for once in his life, was rendered speechless. After a few moments had passed, and both brothers' and Fancy retreated to different parts of the bar; Dean still at the table, Fancy behind the bar and Sam sitting on the stage, Dean looked up and cleared his throat.

"I guess I'm just worried about her." He said quietly, hating to admit he had a compassionate side. "I don't want her to get hurt."

"You think I do? She's always been there for me Dean…I want her safe too."

"None of us do, she's like my little sister. Are we going to find her or what?" Fancy asked, balling a towel up and throwing it onto the counter.

xXxXx

Tate was treating the Mustang like a jockey during a race; hugging turns, and pushing it as far and as fast as it could go. She had taken off nearly three hours ago and had already passed through Augusta, just like Fancy had predicted. "Thunderstruck" by AC/DC was just finishing up when lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the Impala and flashing white across Tate's skin.

"Jesus…" She said to herself, as she flicked off the stereo; "How suiting for the weather."

The rain was coming down heavier, and the low rumbling of thunder seemed to make the thin tires of the Mustang shudder beneath its slick carriage. Slowing the vehicle a little, Tate shook her head; "I hate the rai-"

Before Tate could finish cursing the weather, Mother Nature sent another bolt of lightning cracking down right before Tate's' eyes. The lightning struck one of the old tree's which lined the back road a few miles out of Augusta. In a flash, the tree began tumbling over- coming only inches from the Mustang, which had come to a screeching halt due to Tate, and the reflexes which took years' to perfect. Out of breath, and clearly shaken up, Tate's knuckles shown white against the black steering wheel.

Tate sat back in the car, cursing herself for leaving the house in the first place, and hoping she'd get out of this mess quickly. She was drained, physically, mentally and emotionally, from the day… all she wanted to do was crawl into bed.

Tossing her head back and pinching the bridge of her nose, she inhaled deeply, and then began hunting around the car for her cell phone which had gone missing during a turn which she had taken a little too tightly. Lightning broke overhead again and Tate shot up in her seat. Looking out her window as the sky remained illuminated; Tate seemed to lose the ability to breathe when she saw what looked like the shadow of something vicious standing not too far from the glistening Mustang.


	8. Rain Soaked Secrets

**Here's the new chapter, sorry I didn't update as fast as I should've, but this one took awhile to end and I started college on Monday, so I've been busy. But don't worry, I have the next chapter started and should be up by the end of the weekend. Keep reading and reviewing.**

**Chapter 6-Rain Soaked Secrets**

The smell of smoke and burnt wood filled the air as Tate stood a good hundred feet away from the Mustang, trying to get a better look at what had happened, and looked in front of her car. The huge tree had fallen right in front of it, going from her side of the road to the other, making it impossible for her to go any further; she'd have to back up. The smoke was so strong in the air that it clogged Tate's nose and throat, making it hard for her to breath. The rain was coming down so hard that Tate could barely make out the tree; she could only make it out due to the shafts of light coming across it from the head lights. The rain was beginning to soak her to the bone; leather clung to cotton and cotton grafted to quickly cooling skin. Tate regretted leaving the way she did and now, not being able to find her phone. Another bolt of lightning struck and Tate looked up from the road, the figure that had been there before now stood illuminated in the eerie glow.

It was as if time stopped, bathing him with light and allowed Tate to see it. It was a man around Dean's height and size wearing a heavy black leather trench coat that covered black jeans and a black shirt. His hair hung down in wet strands, each piece caressing a different part of his face; short curving bangs barely reached his dark eye brows. The glow from the lightning cast a scary shimmer across his eyes and Tate realized that the glowing gold orbs were looking back at her. Time started up again; the rain continued to pelt the skin of her face and hands, thunder chorused above her and the wind raged on and on; howling louder and keeping in cadence with the thunder.

"Tatum." The man said simply and in between two long rolls of thunder, he appeared at her side. Tate went off scrambling, her boots sliding against the asphalt as she rushed back to the Mustang's door. Rubber soles went slick against the road and a moment later, Tate lay face down on it. Pushing herself up, the taste of blood trickling into her mouth, she began to hate her curiosity and cursed herself for getting out of the car, not going with her original plan to back up and spin the car around.

"Why are you running Tatum, all I want is to speak with you." Back on her feet, she looked at the man through the slivers of light the tangled locks of hair that fell in front of her eyes provided and watched him walk closer. The rain seemed to seep into his skin, never once did a drop run down his face or jacket, the only thing that was soaked was his hair.

"Yeah well, I don't talk to strangers, get the hell away from me!" Her scream melted in with the loudest thunder clap she had heard in years and felt it shake through her; the feeling finally ending in her boots. Rushing toward the car, with the man taking several long strides behind her and catching up with her much too quickly for her liking. She dropped down low like Dean had taught her; long fingers gripping the road, one leg bent at the knee and the other fully stretched as far as she could push it, and swept it backwards, knocking the man's feet out from under him. She sprang back up just as quick as she went down and rushed back to the car that now only lay a few feet away from her.

Sliding into the front seat, she pulled down the visor and popped open the small window, a faint yellow glow filled the front seat. Blood wormed its way down out of the corner of her mouth where she had bitten down on her lip when she fell and her gum bled on the side; one of her teeth now missing a side hung from the pink skin in her mouth.

"Great, just great." She muttered as she touched it and then with a slam, the visor went back up. Flicking the wipers on, she watched as the windshield cleared itself and dropped her head onto the steering wheel, a low hiss coming from her. Reaching up, she touched a bump on her forehead and rolled her eyes.

"Oh peachy." She muttered as her fingers went from her head to the ignition, turning the keys a little too rough. The car roared to life but quickly died, panic filled her. This couldn't happen, that guy out there still and she didn't know two shits about cars; that was the one thing she always tuned out when Dean talked about the Impala or her Mustang. Cranking the keys again, she muttered something in Latin her father had taught to keep away demons and hoped that the car would turn over; but it didn't.

"Tatum please, just a moment of your time and then you can leave." A shriek, louder than the lightning that had cracked over head filled the car and Tate leapt over the front seat, hitting the back floor boards hard and pulled open the one behind the passenger's seat. A heart beat later, two steady hands wrapped around the butt of a silver and black Beretta.

"Two seconds, that's all you have. And they better be worth it or I'll blow your head off." She ground out. Her newly acquired passenger didn't blink at the sight of the gun, he just looked at her.

"Tatum, you're special."

"I've been told that before, tell me something new."

"I know your secret." Her finger inched up toward the trigger and the sound of the gun going off echoed in her ears, her eyes clamped shut and fingers wrapped around the gun so tight her knuckles were beyond white and her hands had started going cold. Opening her eyes she saw that the man was gone and no damage had been done to her car; no bullet hole through the windows or blood and that mess on her seats. He had just vanished. Sliding back into her seat, she slowly reached for the keys, the Latin escaping her lips again, and this time the car came to life and stayed that way.

"Thank you." She muttered as she back up and spun around; the nose of the car pointed in the direction for Boston. A second later she heard the familiar jingling of the ringer version of "Burning for You" by Blue Oyster Cult come from the passenger seat; Dean was calling. Reaching over with a shaky hand, she grabbed her cell phone that had decided to reappear, flipped it open and brought it to her ear.

"Hello?"

xXxXx

Dean paced the floor in front of the living room window, every so often looking out onto the dark soaked streets and hoped to see the Mustang rumbled up next to the sidewalk; but it hadn't happened yet. He had been pacing since he got off the phone with Tate nearly two hours ago, when he had finally gotten through to her and found out that she was in the car, on her way back from Maine.

"Dean, sit down. She'll be here."

"Sammy, not now."

"She had an almost three hour drive ahead of her and its raining, she'll take her time."

"It's been two hours, she'll be here." Fancy added, walking into the living room and handed Dean a cup of coffee. Fancy had closed the bar for the night, knowing she'd take a hit by not being there on a Saturday night, but this was as close to a family emergency as it could get. She dropped down on the couch next to Sam and looked at him, a smile on her pierced lips. She liked both of them; they both had this undying urge to protect and love Tate, she was lucky. They were good for her, good guys that Tate needed. She had been worried for a long time that Tate wouldn't find a guy like Dean, but as she found out earlier, Tate had found Dean almost two decades earlier.

Sam, Dean and Fancy didn't say anything for the next half hour, each doing something to fill the time until Tate showed back up. The sound of a dying down engine caught their attention, Dean was the first to look down out the window and saw the Mustang took up a parking space right outside the front doors of the hotel.

"I'm going down to get her, you stay here Sammy."

"Dean! I'm not a kid anymore!"

"Just do what I say!" With that, Dean rushed out of the hotel room and left Sam standing there fuming, his fists clenched at his sides. Dean passed up the elevator and ran down the stairs, jumping down about five steps on each flight. He made it downstairs faster than the private elevator that only ran from outside Tate's room to the lobby would have. Running through the lobby, ignoring the looks from guests, bell boys and other workers, he pushed open the large glass doors and found Tate giving the Mustang's keys to a valet.

"Tate." He called, getting her to turn around sharply. Dried blood seeped out of the corner of her mouth, a bruised colored her forehead along with cuts and scrapes on her face and from head to toe; she was drenched. Before Dean took one step, Tate launched herself at him and grabbed him around the stomach, her head resting on his chest.

"I'm so sorry Dean; I shouldn't have taken off like that." She clipped out in between sobs that not only shook her but Dean as well. Reaching down, he stroked the back of her head and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her wet hair. She was soaked, shivering and had to get inside before she got sick, but to Dean it seemed as if she wasn't ready to move yet.

Tate clenched the back of Dean's shirt and held on for she was worth, afraid that if she let go one of them would disappear. She cried into his shirt, her body shaking with every sob and felt her tears mixing in with the drops coming down from her hair. A minute later, she felt herself being pushed back and looked up at Dean; her blood shot eyes straining to every skim up to his face.

"Hey, hey, calm down. I got you, you're okay." He whispered, touching her forehead.

"Aren't you pissed off at me for the way I took off?"

"No, no, I'm not. I'm just glad you're back in one piece babe."

"Oh, yeah about that one piece thing, I broke a tooth." She said, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm.

"It's probably just a little chip, you're still pretty much in one piece. Come on, let's get inside and get you out of the rain." He told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her back into the hotel. Once in the private elevator, she again latched onto him and drew designs on the back of his shirt.

"I shouldn't have done that, taken off like that. I scared myself. I'm not good at running away anymore."

"You haven't had to run in a long time."

"And I'm always running away from you. Do you think there's something wrong with that?" She asked as she played with the charm hanging from Dean's neck.

"No, maybe, I don't know. It's just the way you deal with things." He told her as the elevator dinged, the doors slid back and they walked out, heading down the small private hall to her suite. The minute the door opened, Tate was tugged away from Dean and into Sam's arms, the long limbs almost wrapping around her twice.

"Sammy, Sam, you're making it hard for me to breathe!" She said as he let her go and smiled sheepishly at her, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Sorry Tate."

"Its fine Sammy. Is that Fancy's jacket?" She asked, looking around Sam's tall frame.

"Yeah."

"And why is it here?" Tate asked, a smile tugging on her lips and her eye brow arched in Sam's direction.

"Because I've been worried about you, you jackass. Where the hell did you go?" Fancy asked, walking into the living room with a cup of coffee in her hand. She didn't answer her, she dropped onto the couch, wincing when her back hit the cool leather material of the chair; her whole body was bruised from when she fell. Dean sat down next to her and pulled one of her hands into his lap. Her palm was littered with scrapes and some were deep enough that there was gravel in them.

"Sam go find something to clean this up." Sam nodded, following the order his older brother gave him. Fancy came back into the living room with a blanket and draped it over Tate's shoulders.

"How come you're not fighting us? I mean, we're helping you." Dean whispered into her ear as he stroked her palms, his thumbs brushing over the cuts.

"I'm too tired to fight you." She told him, squirming around on the couch until she was under Dean's arm and flush up against his side. Tate sat there letting Sam fix her hands, Fancy hover over her getting her whatever she wanted and Dean over see everything. About an hour later, just as she began to drift to sleep, she felt Dean shaking her back awake.

"What?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Tate babe, wake up."

"Why?"

"Its time to go to bed."

"You had to wake me up to tell me that? You could've left me here or carried me into the other room."

"She has a point Dean." Fancy said, nudging Sam awake and off her shoulder.

"Shut up Fancy. Come on Tate." Dean said, helping her off the couch and onto her feet. Tate clung to Dean, standing in front of him and walking backwards, her arms wrapped around his waist.

"Behave in there kids! Sam spent forty five minutes bandaging her up!" Fancy yelled as Dean slammed the door; blocking out her and Sam's laughter.


	9. Unraveling Tatum

**Sorry, if you already read this and left a review, I posted it the other day when the site was down and it seems that the story never 'officially' got updated. So I took it down and I'm reposting it. Now, onto my lovely little note. In this chapter you finally find out what Tate really is, and I'll tell everyone now, she's not a witch or a werewolf. What she is, is something that I used a couple things to come up with; a few books I've read, a little hint of Greek Mythology and a movie title with an added letter. So I hope you guys like this and I promise, the creepy is on the way. **

**Chapter 7- Unraveling Tatum**

"You found her and then she did what? She shot you!" A woman's voice shrieked, looking at the man who had appeared in front of Tatum.

"Alana, I tried to speak to her, she didn't want to her me and then yes, she did shoot me!" He yelled, his voice echoing through the abandon cavern the two occupied and bounced off the walls, each syllable colliding with others.

"Nero, the girl only knows half of her true nature; she knows about those feelings she gets and that she can predict things, that part of her gift she using poorly. Helping the older Winchester boy hustle pool games, that is not what we were sent here to do. But she knows nothing more about her gifts. We need to find her before Kris does; the she-wolf has already killed outside the girl's home." Alana said as she stood, her long red hair billowing out as she moved across the cool rock floor toward Nero.

"What do you want me to do? Stalk her?"

"If needs be, yes. Do whatever you can to get her, we need her. If the wolves get her…well you know what will happen." She said with a flick of her hand.

"Yes I know, doom and gloom, all humanity with perish and the Winchesters are destined to fail. I know Alana, I know."

"We lost the boy, we can not afford to loose Tatum too, Nero. I had her once and just as I went to tell her, her father came out to find her. We need her."

"I'll go find her."

xXxXx

Tate sat at her computer with her to back to Fancy in her office, a Zeppelin CD playing off in the background and blocked out the sound of Fancy batting her room service scrambled on her plate. Tate was curled up in the chair, her gauze taped hand wrapped around her mouse and breakfast sat on her desk, getting colder as the seconds passed by. Fancy looked up at her and smiled to herself. It amazed her, there Tate was; battered and bruised, fake putty filling in her tooth and band aids and more gauze hidden under her clothes to cover cuts and nicks in her skin, sitting at her desk doing work.

"What are you working on?" Fancy asked as she took a long sip of her orange juice.

"Nothing really, just something."

"Liar." Fancy sing-songed; getting up off the couch and moving over to Tate's chair, hovering over her shoulder. Fancy's contact free eyes skimmed over the screen, her eyes only taking in the important parts and then took a step back.

"Tate, what exactly is a _Wycker_?" Tate's eyes danced up to Fancy's, their normally guarded gaze had dropped and she bit on her split lip, worrying the flesh through her teeth. "You're telling me King."

"I know, I know. All right, according to the article, a Wycker is a combination of a guardian angel and a Fate; you know one of those three Fates from Greek and Roman Mythology, three goddesses, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, who control human destiny?"

"No, but continue."

"Okay, it says when an angel named Chael and Atropos came together, they formed this other being called a Wycker, a magical Mage like creature with the ability to 'sense' or predict future events and are 'assigned' to protect certain people. Since they're Mages, they have magic of their own; it usually comes from the people they look after."

"Like 'Poof you're a frog' magic?" Fancy asked as she dropped her hand on Tate's shoulder.

"It doesn't say that, but I don't think 'poof you're a frog' is the kind of magic we're looking for. It says the magic was always found when the time was right." Tate read right off the computer, her black painted nail underling the line as she went across the screen.

"So does this explain those damn 'premonitions' you get."

"They're not premonitions; obviously it's something I sense, like a change in something, like something bad is going to happen."

"Everyone gets feelings like that."

"Yeah, but do they know when this 'something bad' is going to happen? I usually do. Like last time I was with Sam and Dean, when I went around that corner and got caught by that ghost, I knew I was walking into a trap but I couldn't change it because that was how things were supposed to play out." Fancy seemed lost for a moment, her lips forming an 'O' when she came back.

"You can't change Fate and obviously since you're part Fate, you really can't fuck that shit up." Tate rolled her eyes and spun her chair back around, reading more about the origins of this Guardian/Fate/Witch thing she was convinced she was. Fancy took her seat back on the couch and grabbed her juice again, the cool surface of it pausing against her lip.

"It explains a lot Kingy."

"Like?" Tate asked, her eyes not leaving the screen.

"The protection thing, look who you're with and if you look at me, I'm throwing my fork at you. You're always with Sam and Dean; you've been with them for nearly two decades. Look at what they do? What you all do. I mean, I think I'd want someone there to protect me too. And from what you've told me, you've gotten both of them out of some pretty tight spots. Seems like Fate to me kiddo." Tate turned her chair to face Fancy and looked at her.

"Maybe you're right, sounds like a good reason. But what about the Mage thing? I mean, I covered the Fate part and you just covered the Guardian and Fate part, where does the magic come in?"

"Don't know yet, but you told me the article told you it comes from the people you look after. Maybe your power is "right place, right time". You know; you're the get away car, the one with the gun, the one who walks blindly into a trap and becomes bait." Fancy said with a smile.

"That's enough Fance." She said as she spun back around and heard the front door open and then close; two new sets of foot falls walking in through the living room.

"The guys are back." She told Tate as she collected her dishes and walked out of the room. Tate smiled and shook her head; she had found out earlier before they ordered room service that Fancy actually did like Sam a whole hell of a lot and while she had taken off the day before, the two spent a lot of time talking. Fancy knew about Jess and Sam knew about the last jackass she had dated who liked to swing; Tate was the only person who knew about that. Tate was about to get up when she felt familiar eyes fall on her and looked up to see Dean. He looked more tired than she did, she knew he had stayed up most of the night and probably watched her, watching every rise and fall of her chest to her eye lids fluttering in a dream.

"Dean, I'm going to be honest here, you look like shit." She told him, trying not to laugh as he crossed the room and stood next to her chair. Sliding off the leather seat, she forced him to sit down and then sat on his lap, her legs draped over his thighs. Running her hand through his hair, she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Tell me you stayed up all night and watched me?"

"You know I did, why are you asking?"

"I hate when you do that."

"Don't worry about me; you're the one that's hurt."

"And you're exhausted babe. Dean, I love that you take care of me, but you have to take care of yourself too." She muttered as she pressed her lips to his neck, his skin was warm under the pink bruised flesh that made up her lips. Dean tilted his head back, giving Tate access to the skin under his jaw. A knock on the door pulled Tate away from her current 'task' of leaving a good sized hickey on the underside of Dean's jaw. Looking up, she found Sam and Fancy in the doorway and turned as red as Sam's shirt; burying her face into Dean's shoulder.

"Guess we're interrupting." Sam said, trying to hide the smile on his face, Fancy didn't though.

"Yeah you are Sammy, what do you want?" Dean growled, scrubbing his face with his hand.

"I wanted to talk to Tate about what we found out at the library." Tate shifted on Dean's lap and sat on his knee caps, ready to listen to Sam. Fancy stood behind Sam still, her hand resting on his hip.

"What didya find Sam?" Tate asked, grabbing her pen and some paper.

"The cops ruled the deaths in the park as a freak animal attack and they're not that far from the truth."

"Damn, I knew it!" Tate muttered as she pulled back up the internet, leaving the article about the Wycker minimized, and went to her email.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked his chin on her shoulder.

"I'm emailing Jake, Richy and few other guys I know down at the station." She said; plugging email addresses into the address bar.

"Those cops?"

"No need to get jealous again, I'm going to email them and see what else I can find out." After typing up the emails, she looked back to Sam. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot as he looked at the various items lining the shelves in her office. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned around and looked at her.

"Do those cops know about you? About what we do?"

"No, they don't know about the hunting, and they really don't know a damn thing about the werewolf."

"It seemed like there was more than one." Dean said, playing with her hair.

"Yeah, there were more than one set of tracks." Sam said.

"Wait, are you talking about Weston Park?" Fancy asked, walking fully into the office.

"Yeah, it was Weston Park. Speaking of the park, I'm going to develop those rolls of film I took there. Fance wanna help?" The bar tender nodded as Fancy got off of Dean's lap. She was almost out of the door when Sam called her back.

"Tate, can we use the computer?"

"Yeah, just don't screw it up." Tate said as she grabbed the rolls of film off the small end table that sat near the love seat she had moved into the office.

"That means no looking at naked pictures." Fancy told them as she followed Tate out, getting the finger from Dean before laughing at him.

xXxXx

A few hours later; Fancy had gone to the bar for the night, Sam was still doing research, Dean was sleeping and Tate was sitting in the living room with her light board, looking at negatives. She sat on the floor in front of the couch with her long legs curled under the coffee table and carefully looked at each negative; looking at each image and marking down the ones she'd print on a separate piece of paper.

"Tate?" Sam's voice startled her and pulled her away from her negatives.

"Yeah Sammy?" She asked as he walked over to her with several sheets of paper in his hands.

"Can I talk to you?"

"What's up?" She asked, turning the light board off and putting her pen down to look at him. He sat down on the couch behind her and laid the papers on the table, yellow highlighter covered several items on each page.

"Why are you looking into Wyckers? They're not evil and I doubt they killed those people in the park, you said earlier it was werewolves. Dad knows a lot about them, hell, I think he met one once."

"I know he met one, I should've called him."

"Why?"

"Sam, I have to tell you something."

"Tate, what is it?"

"You remember when me, Dean and Garrett were eleven, you were seven, and our dads were hunting werewolves in Minnesota?"

"I think so."

"Dean dared me to go out and find a werewolf, saying I couldn't do it because I'm a girl. And you know me, I don't back down from anything. So I went out into this clearing and heard something, it was a werewolf or what I thought was one. It caught me just before I got to the cabin, but it wasn't a wolf. When it hovered over me, it changed into a woman like a shape shifter. It became this woman who told me I was special and said something about a Wycker. She never got to finish telling me about it because my dad came out, guns loaded and ready to kill something like always; she vanished. Just vanished, right into thin air. And the other night when I took off…"

"You saw her again, right?"

"No, it was a man this time, but I think he's one too."

"What happened?"

"I freaked out and shot him. He just disappeared like she did and nothing happened to my car, not bullet hole, no blood. Nothing, it was like he and the bullet never existed." She said and the two were silent for awhile; Tate playing with her bracelet and Sam tugging at the cords of his hoodie.

"So, you're a Wycker?" Sam asked, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he wrung his hands together.

"Yeah I guess. I just have to find that guy again."

"And apologize for shooting him."

"Yeah, that too." This time it was Tate who let out that nervous giggle.

"So…umh…how long have you known you were…umh…_something_?" The way Sam was talking to her reminded her of the time he walked in on her and Dean when they were eighteen; it was horrific trying to explain themselves out of that one without having to involve John and Ben.

"Since I was eleven."

"That's when your eyes changed, I remember that."

"They changed the night after I saw the woman in the clearing." She told him as he reached for the article and looked for something he had highlighted; Tate figured he had started putting the pieces together hours ago and was waiting to get her alone to ask her about it.

"The article says that's how you can tell someone is a Wycker by the; _"abnormal and unique coloring of their eyes or the pigment of their skin; some are almost pearly white or literally olive tinted." _It explains that shocking violet color. So you really are a Wycker." He said, putting the papers back in a stack.

"Guess so." She mumbled as she twirled her pen through her fingers; a nervous habit she picked up through years of school and not paying attention when her father was demonstrating the proper way to fire a gun.

"Why didn't you tell me Tate?" Hearing Dean's voice, both of them jumped and turned toward the archway that led into the kitchen. There stood Dean; his hair sticking up in different angles and shocking directions and his white under shirt and jeans were rumpled from tossing and turning in bed. But Tate was transfixed on his eyes, in all the time she had been around Dean, she had never seen them filled with so much hurt.

"How much of that did you hear?" She asked, jumping to her feet and took a step toward him.


	10. The Truth in the Wind

**Chapter 8: The Truth in the Wind**

Tate woke up cold; her body shaking and shivering with a fine sheen of icy sweat covering her skin. She hated waking up cold, it unnerved her and she swore the cold seeped into her. She pushed herself up onto her elbow, looking around the vast plain her bed had become. She was laying on top of the covers, still wearing her clothes from earlier and reached for the space next to her, quickly finding out why she was cold. Dean wasn't in bed; his side hadn't been touched and looked as if he hadn't even come to bed. And then all of it came flooding back; telling Sam about the Wyckers and the haunting hurt look in Dean's eyes. Turning her head, she looked at the clock and sighed; it was only one in the morning. Pushing herself off the bed, she swung her feet to the floor and walked out of the room. The sounds of horse hooves and guns firing filled the living room, the television casting a blue shadow on the white wall behind the couch; Sam had fallen asleep with the TV on. He was stretched out on the couch with the flickering light washing over him like a churning wave. Turning off the late-night Western, she draped a blanket over him and took the plates he left out into the kitchen with her; dumping them in the sink on her way to pull out a water bottle. Padding back across the room, water in hand and passing Sam again, stopping for a brief second to watch him, Tate stopped in the doorway to her bedroom and looked around. The heavy shadows clung to the walls and painted the room black, each wall covered with an inky splat like shape, except the one that housed the doors to the balcony. Light poured in through the drawn curtains, the faint gold glow painting a narrow shaft on matching wine colored rug. Walking over to flip the switch, thinking she had left it on while she was in there earlier getting her light board, she was about to touch the bronze fitted lever when she pushed back the heavy velvet material the made up the curtains. With the material swept away, looking like a drawn stage curtain, she found herself starring not only at the beauty of the night, but at the back of Dean's head. She knew he had taken off earlier, but she hadn't gone after him and seen him since. Opening the door, she slipped out onto the stone floor; tip toeing fast enough so her bare feet wouldn't go numb so fast, and reached out for Dean. Her hand dropped to his hip; her palm fitting perfectly around the bone, and tried not to laugh when his body jumped under her touch.

"Hi." Tate whispered softly, the pad of her thumb sneaking under the hem of his shirt. She figured he had been out here for hours, but his skin was still warm to the touch.

"Hey." He whispered back, pulling her into his arms.

"Are you mad that I didn't tell you? I mean, I was going to tell you but…"

"Sam was there, I get it. You and Sam have a different kind of relationship than we do."

"I'd hope so; there are some things you and I do that I'd never do with Sam." She said with a smile.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah I do, you just don't find me funny."

"Shut up. But really, you guys talk a lot. We talk, but…"

"We do other things that make up for the lack of talking."

"Those things are much better than talking all the time." Dean said with that smirk.

"Aren't you glad you're not Sam?"

"Very glad. But can you tell me first next time you have something "big" to tell?"

"Before or after Fancy?"

"Before."

"Deal."

"Good." He said pressing a tender kiss to her lips. It was soft, gentle and rare; a "good" kiss. It rarely happened between the two of them. They were normally "Wham, Bam, Thank you for not walking in Sam." kind of kisses, but this one packed a bigger punch, much bigger than any of those. There was so much more in that brief touch, more than "want, need, have". This one covered "I'm sorry, I love you, Trust me next time and don't leave me again." Those were the things they never said to each other.

"So you're not mad?" She asked, pushing away from him and walking over to the balcony railing, her eyes flicking from the sidewalk below to the other buildings across from her.

"No, I'm not mad." He told her as she felt the wind pick up, ruffling her hair and sending it flying across her shoulders. Looking at Dean, it was as if the breeze never touched him at all. A second later everything froze and Tate's eyes danced around the balcony; everything had stopped. The dry leaves that skirted across the balcony froze mid spin, the wind chime she had hanging from the awning stopped just as the two bells clanged against each other and Dean was paused in between yawns. Everything had frozen except her.

"So, you've learned your true powers?" A woman's voice called from the corner. Turning, she saw her. Long red hair splayed out in different directions as the breeze poured off Tate. Her long trench coat blew away from her body revealing a silk rust colored shirt and dark pants.

"She knows what to expect, but not what her true powers are." A man answered for Tate, the man she shot.

"Are you here to tell me what I am or what? If not, unfreeze everything." Tate sneered as the wind picked up and thunder rolled over head. The man and woman looked at each other, both nodding.

"I'm Alana and this is Nero; we're Wyckers just like you." The woman, Alana, said taking a step toward Tate.

"Is that why you came after me? To tell me?" Tate asked, looking at Nero.

"Yes." Came his gruff reply, his voice sounding just like the thunder that had previously chorused around them.

"Umh…sorry about shooting you." Tate apologized to the ground, looking at her newly painted toe nails.

"It's all right, I vanished before you fired; the bullet came through with me and hit a wall."

"So that's your powers? Poofing from on place to another?"

"In simple terms yes. I was assigned to a solider in the Civil War. The 'poofing' came from dodging bullets."

"Wait…did you say Civil War?" Tate asked, leaning back against the railing; the wind toying with her hair again.

"That damned computer didn't you tell we're immortal, did it?" Alana asked with a smile.

"Hell no. So what about the freezing time and all that shit? That you?" She asked, looking at Alana.

"Yes. I've been around so long that I don't even remember getting my powers. But we're not here to talk about us, we're here for you." Tate's eyes seemed to dance between the two people in front of her, taking in everything they were saying. If she were normal, all of this, this entire night, would've seen insane. But to her, it felt as if it were the most natural thing in the world; talking to two strangers who were older than the railing she leaned against and the car she drove.

"I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"That woman who I saw in the forest when I was small, what about her?"

"She was killed Tatum, by the werewolves who killed those people at the park, months ago."

"You said…"

"Yes, I said Immortal so we can not die _naturally, _but we can be killed" Alana stated, breezing over to Dean. Tate watched the way she moved, almost melding with the gentle wind blowing around the balcony. "He is gorgeous." The older woman's voice became smoky and whiskey roughed; Tate knew that voice, especially when Dean was concerned. Her hand struck out, slapping Alana's fingers away from Dean's face and for a moment, she felt the wind behind her become a gale.

"Stop touching him and tell me about her." The wind picked up and seemed to aim itself at Alana, literally blowing her several feet back from where Dean stood frozen; Nero still hanging back by the doors laughed at the display.

"Possessive and territorial. Good, powerful traits; you are a good guardian." Alana said, slowly slinking up back toward Dean.

"Me keeping you away from him has nothing to do with my being a guardian; it has to do with the mentality of keeping unwanted bimbos away from something that isn't theirs." Tate growled and the thunder above echoed, Alana nearly cackled.

"You'll be great Tatum. Now, you want to know about Olivia. She died trying to find you, she was the oldest of us all, but once you were found she would've had to give up her powers and her Immortality, she would've died anyways. There can only be twenty of us, you'd make twenty one if she was still alive."

"Tatum, we need you. You are far more powerful than any of us and with all the training your father and John put you through makes you more powerful. You have a sense of control and yet, you're uncontrolled, just like the weather you've seem to be able to harness." Nero told her as the winds cooled, a breath escaping Tate. "The weather parallels you and your emotions."

It all seemed to start fitting together in Tate's head, the miserable weather lately, the horrific storm that happened the other night when she took off and just a few seconds ago, when she blew Alana away from Dean.

"You have so much power Tate, much more than the two of us combined…" Alana told her, pointing at herself and Nero, "…and with you, we can put things back in balance. You see what the world has become; demons, ghosts, monsters. Nero and I can not do it alone. We need three, and as you can see, we're only two."

"I'll be your third." She said, letting out a deep breath. Tate let all of it sink in, a calm warm breeze blew across them and the scent of jasmine filled the air. Her mind cleared and slowly began to drift away, being carried away on a warm up draft of air.

"_Tate!"_ The cry for help hit her hard, like running into a brick wall head on. It shook her down to her toes and caused a loud roar of thunder to break from the clouds. It took her a minute to calm down and regain her bearings and then another minute to figure out who called her.

"Jake? Jake, where are you?" She hissed, her voice swept away on the same up draft that took her mind away. "Jake!" She called again and this time, down from the heavy black clouds above flew down a bolt of lightning. The blast of light was so powerful it broke Alana spells and everything caught back up with Tate and the other two; Dean finally finished his yawn.

"Tate, what was that noise?" His question went unanswered as Tate scrambled from one side of the balcony to the other, following the still illuminated jagged path the bolt took; it struck directly in the center of Weston Park.

"Tatum, what's going on?" Nero asked, stepping up with Alana in toe, Dean eyed the two and looked back to Tate. Within seconds she was bombarded with questions, three distinct voice melding into one muddled mess.

"ENOUGH!" And a long roll of thunder shook the hotel. Everyone stopped speaking and starred at Tate. Hearing the balcony door open, Tate looked up and found a half asleep, half spooked Sam starring back at her.

"Sammy, get dressed and call Fancy."

"Why?"

"We're going to need her."

"Tate, what's going on and who are these people?"

"Thank you! Someone finally asked, are you going to answer him?"

"Shut up Dean. We have to go to Weston Park." Four sets of eyes starred at her. "Its Jake, the wolves are there and I think he's in trouble."

"You heard her Sammy, we have to get ready." Dean said, taking charge and headed inside, leaving Tate alone with Alana and Nero.

"We'll start heading for the park and meet you there." Nero placed his hand on Alana's shoulder and in a blink, they were gone. Closing her eyes, she found the up draft and sighed.

"_Please Jake, be all right." _ She thought before taking after Dean.


	11. Hot Blooded

**Chapter 9- Hot Blooded**

The Mustang roared down the rain filled streets of Boston, tidal like waves splashing up onto the sidewalks as Tate drove like a mad woman to Weston Park. In the rear view mirror were the Impala's headlights and she could barely make out Sam and Dean's silhouettes in the front seat. Her left hand white knuckled it around the sleek leather coated steering wheel and her right toyed with the radio, twisting around the knob from static to some form of music. She needed music, she needed something to keep her calm and without cigarettes or those God awful pouty lips of Dean's, music would have to do. She cruised to a local rock station and almost squealed, if the situation wasn't so serious, when she heard the DJ announce something along the lines of "Classic Rock&Roll weekend." As she came to a stop light a few minutes later and Dean's face became clear in her mirror, Foreigner tumbled from the speakers and one of her favorite songs; "Hot Blooded" quickly filled the car. A lazy smile spread across her lips as the red glow from the stop light washed over her and quickly, within the short pause she had at the intersection, remembered the last time she heard this song playing in her car. Her fingers drummed along on the wheel and her mind floated, catching that quickly growing familiar updraft; literally swept away in her thoughts and kept the Mustang going in the direction she had pointed it in.

xXxXx

Outside the summer heat beat down on the well worn and packed Georgia ground; the kind of heat that made you want to hide in the shadows with something cold to drink or dive in the nearest pool. But there was no pool or cool shadows to hide in the in small town garage and auto shop that John Winchester and Ben King co-managed. But John and Ben were gone for a week, leaving Sam, Dean, Garrett and Tate in charge. Garrett and Dean took care of the cars that regular customers brought in while Tate ran the office and store part of the shop; Sam hung around but mostly kept to himself in the back office working on homework that Tate occasionally helped him with. But the over bearing heat made business slow and since opening this morning, the kids only saw two customers; Roger Matthews showed up earlier to pick up his work truck and paid Tate, leaving the young woman with a smile and a tip for being as he said "such a pretty young un-withered thing in this God awful heat" and then a young woman around Tate's age who came in looking for a steering wheel cover.

Tate had come back from a run to the small deli down the street, the Mustang covered in sandy dirt from peeling back into the garage's parking lot and rolled it right into the garage, pulling up along side the station her father worked at, the station Dean stood in. Rolling down her window, she winked at him and handed him the white bags filled with sandwiches and potato salad made special for her by the nice old woman, Debra, down at the deli. She liked Tate and more than once tried to set her up with her oldest son Peter.

"On the house, Deb gave them to me free of charge. She took pity on me, saying I shouldn't be working in the garage in this "damned" heat. I dunno; the woman likes me, what can I say?" Tate said, getting out of the Mustang, brushing her heat dampened locks back off her face and then ran her hands down over her clothes; straightening out her tank top and denim cut offs. The hot summer sand even covered the toes of her black Converse low tops, making them look gray instead of black. The music still played from the radio, Foreigner filling the garage and Dean watched Tate 'dance' around to "Hot Blooded". Rolling his eyes, he sat down in the driver's seat she had just left and pulled out what she brought him for lunch, turning the car off but leaving the radio on. The engine ended with a sputter and Tate whipped around to look at Dean, stopped mid-seizure like dance.

"What's that noise?" She asked, walking back over as Dean stood again and popped the hood. "Dean, what's that noise?"

"I dunno Tate, I'm looking."

"Dean fix it!" Tate whined from behind the opened hood of the Mustang and raked an annoyed hand through her hair.

"Tate stop whining."

"Well find out what's making the noise and stop it." She said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Tate, stop it. What was the noise again? Was it making it when you were in town?"

"I dunno; you know I never paid attention when our dads talked about cars. I don't work back here, I work at the register."

"Thank God you work out there; I don't need you messing around back here." He mumbled looking down at the engine.

"I heard that."

"I know you did, now back to the noise."

"Jesus Dean, I dunno…a rattle maybe?"

"See, that actually helps." Rolling her eyes, she leaned against the car door and picked at her nail polish. Fifteen minutes and a few curses later, Dean dropped the hood and sent Tate flying; she jumped nearly ten feet.

"Christ! Do you enjoy scarring me?"

"Yeah actually I do." He said reaching out for her; grease covered finger prints decorated her elbow.

"Gross." She muttered, stealing the rag he had away from him and wiped off her arm.

"Come here and I'll tell ya what's wrong with the car." Tate took two steps and walked right into his arms. She heard the words fall from Dean's mouth; something about a spark plug and wires, but she was much more interested in the way he looked in his grease stained white shirt.

"Next time this happens we're gonna have to take it to a mechanic…Tate, are you listening?"

"Huh?" She asked blinked as she looked up at him, her contacts shifting back into place.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"No and I don't care."

"Oh?" He asked with a smirk in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm bored. Entertain me." She said as she stepped away from him and pulled the garage door down from the ceiling, closing the two of them in.

"Entertain you huh?" He asked as he backed her toward the car, the back of her knees hitting the grill. A split second later, she was looking up at him; one of his hands braced on the hood and the other toying with the hem of her tank top.

"On the hood of my baby, this is new Dean." Tate said, tugging him down closer to her by the soft leather cord of his necklace, wrapped the slack around her fingers until they were nose to nose.

"So what are we doing? You said entertain me." He told her, nipping at her bottom lip. Bringing a hand up, she traced the outline of Dean's lips and twitched her nose, a clear sign that she was thinking something up.

"Umh…how about this? I mean, it's kinda different."

"I'm listening." His teeth moved from her lips to the column of tanned flesh that served as her neck, leaving small bites here and there.

"No frills, no thrills, no stupid shit, no playing around or anything. Just you. Me. Now." She whispered hotly into his ear as she wrapped her arms around his back and hooked one leg over his hips.

"That I can do." He told her, looking down at her, his fingers skimming across her collar bone.

"Good. But you do know, Garrett could pull in with Sammy any minute and he could need me to help him with his homework."

"Makes it all the more fun." He said, nipping at her ear, tugging at the rare ear ring free skin.

"I like the way you think Winchester, loving the idea of getting caught." She told him, tugging him down again; where the cord bit the skin of her hand and his neck both went white, and brought him down for another kiss. Lips crushed, teeth slammed, tongues fought and Tate did that thing where she arched up into him, perfectly, back bowed in the shape of a semi circle and the tattoo she had on her hip brushed against Dean's stomach.

Tate, one who never did such unspeakable things, broke the kiss first and looked at Dean, a lopsided kiss swollen smile on her face. Long spider leg like fingers collected the hem of his shirt in her fingers and tugged, pulling the material up with her arms.

"Help me here you jerk." She muttered against his neck and with a roll of his shoulders, off came the engine stained shirt. Running her hands over his skin, she swore the pads of her fingers were burnt; his skin was so hot.

"Christ Dean…when was the last time we did this?" She asked, her fingers retracing familiar slopes and dips, the bones of his shoulder blades fanned out under her palm.

"The other night…or do you mean something like this, on the hood of the car?" He got out before Tate's lips attached themselves to a spot on his chest. She didn't answer him with words; her mouth was busying itself on its newest task; marking his chest, and gently pounded her free hand on the hood.

"Dun…dunno." He bit out with a shudder as she finished her task and cocked her head to the side, admiring her work. Fingers tugged at her shirt now, breaking her focus on the good sized hickey below his color bone and her eyes snapped up to Dean; the age old silent permission spilled out of the purple orbs. Dean was given the green light and a second later, the black tank top and same shade bra landed in a heap on the concrete floor beneath the muscle car. All that separated the two was nothing more than a thin line of cotton and rough denim, something that if the two of them had their way, like normal, the last two barriers would be gone in seconds.

In tune with one another, acting just like they did on a hunt, hands reached in opposite directions and moments later, cotton boxers; violently plaid ones and simple blue girl boxers, along with denim cut offs that were two inches away from being Daisy Dukes and well worn almost threadbare jeans joined the pile on the ground. Tate shivered, two different temperatures coming at her from two different directions; the cool metal hood beneath her and the furnace like heat radiating off Dean came from above her. Her fingers wrapped around his arms, black chipped polished nails dug into solid bicep muscle and pinched until he winced.

"Do something." She ground out; her voice gravel and whiskey roughened. Dean smiled at her, dropping down to kiss her one last time and let out a long, low hiss when she sunk her teeth into the already bruised flesh of his bottom lip, making sure her canines left their imprints in the kiss reddened skin. A sharp heel dug itself into the small of his back and it took a half of a second; purple and green eyes clashed. Again he saw the permission in her eyes, even though both knew he didn't need it, it was there and given. Then with a tilt of the hips, an arching of her back and the sinking in of her nails into skin of his shoulder, Dean slid home and braced himself over her, head drooping down between his shoulders and caught her lips. Again they moved in sync, she matched each thrust and buck with one of her own and almost set the pace, almost making Dean keep up with her. The Mustang creaked and whined below them, the tires fought to stay slicked to the ground as Dean finally did pick up the pace.

The garage was silent elsewhere, tarp covered car parts sat on shelves along with rows of tools, neither disturbing the other, but back by the Mustang; shouts, whines and squeals from the car's shocks filled the air. The sound of someone pulling up outside the garage echoed off the cinder block and cement walls but was soon drowned out by a loud and long shout filled with curses and things ranging from _"Oh God, fucking Hell…" _to a long and drawn out _"Deeeaann!" _Tate's body froze for a moment, her eyes screwed shut, fists grabbing at the air and buried her face into Dean's neck' his skin muffling the last of her scream and then fell victim to an onslaught of lazy kisses and nips. Dean, for once, was more subdued than the flushed brunette beneath him and barely let out a _"Tate" _tainted hiss into her hair, hands quickly coming up behind her and grasping at the back of her head, shaky fingers twirling around her tangled reddish brown locks.

Tate's head jerked back when she heard the bell over the front door jingle, announcing the arrival of someone in the shop.

"Tate! Dean! You guys here!" Garrett's voice rang out clear and strong, telling his sister that he wasn't too far from the garage's door leading in from the store.

"Shit! Get up Dean!" She hissed, pushing him away and scrambling around for her clothes. A minute later, still shaky, Tate waltzed out of the garage and found her brother and Sam sitting by the register.

"Hey guys."

"You two are horrible." Garrett said, wrinkling his nose at her.

"Shut up, you're just jealous." She told him, getting a soda from the vending machine next to a rack full of air fresheners.

xXxXx

Tate was jerked out of her trip down memory lane when the sound of the Impala's blaring horn worked its way into her ears, the light above her shown green and for a second, as she wavered somewhere between reality and the hood of her baby, she swore she was still staring into Dean's eyes. Rolling her own memory fogged eyes, she looked up into the mirror; eyes locked with the older Winchester, and mouthed the word 'Asshole' to him; her lips forming perfectly around the word.

"Fuck you." Was the response she found in the mirror.

Tate could see Sammy rolling his eyes and, not one to be out staged by the idiot with the lips, mouthed something right back: "Later."

Smirking, a boot clad foot pressed down on the gas and with the help of a well placed breeze, sent a wave up onto the Impala's windshield. Flicking the radio off, she floored it the rest of the way to Weston Park, her eyes now searching the dark rains for Alana and Nero. When she pulled the Mustang up to the curb, she found the two waiting for her. The door slammed shut with a rattle and soon, Sam and Dean's doors echoed it.

"Tate, are you gonna tell us who these people are?"

"Not now. Jake's in trouble and I think it's the werewolves." She told Dean, remembering Jake used to walk home from Fancy's this way.

"So, we're here to find him?" Sam asked, walking up to her.

"Yeah, some how he called to me, he sounded hurt."

"You heard his scream on the wind." Alana said, looking at Dean causing Tate to stand between the two.

"Knock it off. If we're going to find Jake, we're going to have to split up and take different sides of the park. Alana, you go with Sam and Nero, go with Dean."

"Whoa King and just who are you going with?" Dean asked, grabbing her by the shoulders, his thumbs rubbing her arms through the leather of her coat.

"I'm a big girl and remember, I'm a Wycker like we talked about. You haven't seen what I can do."

"Tatum, why don't you go with Dean?"

"Nero, anyway we do this, someone's going alone. And I'd rather it be me. Sammy, why don't you go get the silver bullets from the Impala and give me a minute with Dean."

"All right. It's Alana, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you need a gun?"

"No, but Nero might. Let's go with the younger Winchester." She said, leaving Tate and Dean alone.

"I don't want you going out there alone, last time I let you go alone you almost died on me."

"Well I didn't and this time, I know what I am and what I can do."

"And what exactly can you do?" He asked as she closed her eyes and the rain that had been coming down hard for the last hour just stopped. Letting out a breath, one that hit Dean with the scent of fresh rain, she brought the rain back, but just around them.

"Welcome to my corny movie moment." She said, giggling.

"And what happens next?"

"I look up at you, you look down at me, and we meet in the middle and kiss. Then you tell me you trust me and I say I'll be safe and we go different directions. I, of course, give you one last kiss before I go and then I really leave."

"Tate…."

"You're not following the script." Both looked at each other and met for the kiss and when they pulled apart Tate nudged him.

"You have a line."

"Oh right, I trust you."

"Good, I'll be safe." She told him with a quick peck on the lips.

"I know you will be."

"Improvising, I like it. I'll be back. Don't worry." She said, waving her gun in front of her face and then quickly disappeared into the dark.

Tate walked through the woods slowly, and with an over-abundance of caution, keeping her ears open for any sounds, and her body alert, for even the slightest inkling of danger. With twigs cracking underfoot, water-logged leaves and brush collecting beneath the soles of her boots, and the rotting smell of something meeting her at the nose with a twinge, Tate cursed herself for not going along with Fancy and Sam for a drink earlier that day, as she found herself in dire need of some alcohol as she trudged through only god knows what, in the forest which adjoined Weston Park.

This wasn't how Tate had hoped to spend the remainder of her day- She had planned to spend the night in bed, curled up alongside Dean, enjoying some time alone with him, in her bed. Sadly, thing's didn't go as she'd wanted.

"I get pulled away from a promising night of something that could top my lovely trip down memory lane and what happens? I get two Wyckers and find myself on a goddamn wild goose chase in the woods for my ex-fiancé... if he's not dead already I'll rip him apart... bastard always had bad timing."

Tate's self-rant was halted when the screech of an owl ripped through the woods and she froze, stopping dead in her tracks waiting for another sound to echo through the area- but after several minutes had passed, Tate exhaled and took a shaky step forward. She kept on walking until it became too dark to see, when she then paused and broke out a small flashlight to illuminate her path- just as she went to flip on the light, a gust of wind tore through the tree's, sending shivers up Tate's spine. She needed to find Jake right away, make sure he was still sharing her air and get the hell home, she was done with this park.

The wind chilled Tate to the bone, sending her spine ridged and causing her grasp to tighten on the cool metal of the flashlight. Several minutes had passed and the wind was refusing to die down as it whipped around her and sent her hair billowing out behind her. Tate shivered, wishing she'd remembered to grab her jacket as she bolted out of her house earlier that afternoon. Then, out of nowhere, as sudden as it had begun, the wind lost its might- and now, the woods' were motionless; not even the leaves seemed alive.

With a deep breath, Tate began to step forward, but as she put weight on her foot- the forest floor gave way beneath her and a shriek escaped her throat as she flew forward and down into the damp, muddy depths of an insect-infested sink hole.

When Tate connected with the rotting earth with a thud and a splat, a groan slipped from between her lips.

"God damnit..." She muttered, looking around the area with her flashlight; "You've got to be kidding me... son of a bitch."

If Tate wanted to get out of the literal mud hole she was in- she had quite a climb ahead of her. While she was on the verge of a physical breakdown, she inhaled deeply and let out a sigh, and then finally began to make a crack at lifting herself off the forest floor, though the thick muck made it nearly impossible for her to get anywhere without pushing herself. It took Tate several more attempts until she got anywhere.

Out of breath and covered in mud, still muttering curses at mother nature, Tate slipped forward a few feet and sunk her nails into the earth. Clawing, slipping, pulling and digging with all her might, Tate slowly got herself out of the sinkhole. Reaching the top, and swinging her arms onto the ground just a few inches above her, she paused for a moment to take a breath before gathering up her energy for the final push out of there.

Hoisting herself up and nearly collapsing on the ground alongside the hole, Tate propped herself up on the ground and buried her face in her hands. "Why... why do I even do this anymore..."

But Tate's thoughts' were cut short when a low growl worked its way into her ear. Tensing up and slowly lifting her head, Tate's eyes' soon focused on a pair of glowing eyes' not too far from the opposite side of the hole. Tate sat there, motionless, wondering if she was still even breathing, and one by one, several more pairs of eyes' shown through the inky night.

Tate glanced at her feet, still dangling over the edge, and realized in hind sight, that staying down there didn't seem so bad. Slipping out between two trees came a woman with hair as orangey red as any flame Tate had ever seen and eyes that matched. Everything about her screamed werewolf.

"Look who we finally get to meet in person, the great Wycker Tatum King. About time, we've been looking for you."

"I'm flattered, seriously I'm not that hard to find sweetheart. You could've come looking for me."

"Why do that when you walk right into our trap?"

"Trap? You mean Jacob. Where is he?" She demanded, scrambling to her feet. The she-wolf, Kris, let out a sharp whistle that nearly made Tate's ears bleed and slowly, following the path Kris had come through, came two broad shoulder boulder looking me carrying something that looked like a limp sack between them. The two threw whatever it was to the ground and in the moon light, Tate saw a familiar face under the caked inches of blood.

"What do you want from me? I want him back."

"All in good time Wycker, all in good time. Rex, Marcus, tie our guests back up. Jules, Tess, take the pack and search the park, find the others." Howls echoed through out the trees as the orders were carried out and Tate was bound and gagged, slowly being dragged deeper into the woods. And Tate did the only thing she could do; allow herself to be dragged through the woods. It was for the best; for her along with Jake, Sam, Alana, Nero and especially Dean.


	12. Chained and Let Loose

**Chapter 9- Chained and Let Loose**

Tate's eyes snapped open and quickly adjusted to the heavy darkness that hung around her eyes like a curtain. With each flutter of her eye lashes the curtain moved back away, quickly pulling itself to the edges of her vision then slowly ebbed away, and Tate smelt where she was before her eyes caught up to her nose. The sent of burnt wood, charred hay and the almost complete drowned out scent of manure, all clouded around her nose and quickly realized that she was in the blackened remains of the Weston Carriage Stables. The stables had been burnt to the ground when she was an intern about five years before; an animal's right activist had burnt the place down after several failed protests had gotten him no closer to ending carriage rides around Weston Lake. The man had said the park took no care of the horses and the rides were slave labor, so he took action. He doused the place with gas and torched it, killing two horses and a stable hand in the process. Tate's first freelance experience was taking pictures of the charred skeletal remains of the stable.

A sound that was clearly movement caught her attention and she quickly looked to her left; there laid Jacob's bloody and prone form. Blood flowed freely from his nose and a huge gash that snaked across his forehead; painting his face a vivid red, and his left leg was bent at an odd angle, clearly broken. His regimented long sleeved police jacket was torn to shred, along with the white shirt he wore under it.

"Jake?" She called and tried to reach out to him, but found out by nearly toppling over, that she was tied to the chair. Her legs were bound tightly to the wooden posts under the chairs flat seat, and her arms, tied at the elbow and wrist, were wrapped just as tight, but not with bailing twine like her legs. Her fingers twisted and flailed, quickly touching it, it felt like shreds of material.

"Look who finally woke up! You have such pretty eyes." Tate looked up and watched Kris walk in, kicking Jake hard in the ribs. Tate jumped, forgetting that she was bound to the chair and let out a growl that was echoed by a roll of thunder when the wooden legs hit the floor.

"Jake has nothing to do with this; he doesn't even know what I am or what I really do."

"Lying to the man you were supposed to marry, tssk-tssk. And keeping secrets from the Winchester you're so hopelessly in love with. Ever wonder why you have such 'guy-troubles'?" Tate rolled her eyes as Kris crouched down and brushed back Jake's long bangs. "But you really do have good taste in picking the ones you lie to and keep secrets from."

"Get away from him." Tate said, pulling her arms free, trying to get at least one hand free to summon a good sized wind to blow Kris away from Jacob. "Look, you used Jake, he's no longer needed. You got me here! He has no more use!"

"Oh but he does!" Kris purred, standing up and brushing the hay that covered the ground off of her pants. She stalked over to Tate and grabbed her roughly by the chin, her nails pinching skin. "You don't understand little Wycker, to kill one of you, all I have to do it kill the people you care for most. Anyone from that stupid ass cop who walked right into our trap, that bitch bar tender or those two idiots you showed up with, especially the older one. Once they're all gone, you'll be so weak all I'll have to do is punch you in the mouth and you'll be out of my hair." Tate pulled out of Kris' grasp and yanked her head back.

"Why me? Alana and Nero are here too. Kill them."

"You're different Tatum; you have the power of two Wyckers."

"Garrett."

"Exactly. When he died, you got his powers. You're a threat to us all."

"Who are 'us all', bitch?" The back of Kris' palm connected with Tate's face and her laugh filled the stable when Tate cracked her jaw, shaking away the stinging pain.

"_Us all_; everything bad, from that dark room ghost, that Wendigo that gave mommy that pretty scar to the Demon that killed Mary and Jess. You're a threat and we've been watching you since you and Garrett were still one cell. You're a threat and threats need to be eliminated." Tate watched with wide eyes as the beautiful woman in front of her started to change. Dark clothes and skin morphed together becoming coarse gray fur that covered thickening bones. Her face became longer, fuller and dog like. But what startled Tate most was the sharp over hanging fangs that gleamed in the moon light.

"Oh shit." Tate muttered as the werewolf studied her, watching for the right moment to strike. All Tate needed was to have her throat ripped out right here, lovely. Tate closed her eyes and in her mind she saw herself pulling down lightning, she could hear it crackle, felt the heat and aimed for Kris. When she opened her eyes she watched the jagged bolt of light come down through an opening in the half burnt and collapsed roof and gasped when it hit Kris. Power surged through the wolf's body, it jolted and convulsed, nerve endings firing and trying to escape the power surging through each neuron. The wolf stopped moving a moment later, falling into a heap of limp bones and electrified flesh. Tate didn't know if she killed the wolf or Kris, or even if she killed her at all; all Tate knew was she had to get Jake and get out of there.

Tate tugged at her wrist one last time and she pulled her arm free. She made quick work of the other ropes and when she was done, jumped away from the chair. She stepped around Kris' still wolfen form and rushed over to Jake.

"Jake, Jake, Jake baby open your eyes. Look at me." Tate panicked, pillowing Jake's head in her lap. She pulled down some rain and made it gently sprinkle on his face. She watched some of the blood that caked his cheeks and nose wash away with the water and hoped he'd open his eyes. A second later his eyes fluttered up at her.

"Jake!" She whispered, brushing back his hair and looking down at the handsome face she used to wake up to.

"Tate…I called for you and you came."

"Of course I came. Why wouldn't I?"

"Dean."

"You were in trouble; he's not going to mind." Tate said as a howl echoed outside. "Jake we have to go, they're coming back."

"Tate, I don't think I can make it."

"Don't say things like that. You'll make it. Now come on, get up." It took a couple times, but they got to their feet and Tate led the way.

"How did you kill that thing?" Jake rasped, blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth. That scared Tate; it could mean so many things.

"I have no idea. I just did something to it. Now come on. Less talking more…limping." She said as they hobbled out into the woods. The scent of rain filled the air heavily, growing stronger with each step Tate took. The howls grew louder and came closer to her and Jake. If they didn't find Sam and Dean soon, they were dead meat, literally.

"Tate!" Hearing Dean's voice, Tate stopped and did a quick search of the woods, letting Jake rest fully on her side.

"Dean! Dean where are you!" Before he answered Tate saw Sam, Dean, Nero and Alana come through the over grown tree line to her right. Dean looked at Jake, his bloody body sagging down Tate's side and without a word, pulled him away from her. Tate watched as he moved Jake from her shoulder to his own and for a moment, the two locked eyes.

"Tatum, we should leave the woods, the wolves are coming." Nero said, brushing past Sam who was cradling his left arm, looking as if he hurt his shoulder. But as the words tumbled from Nero's lips the forest roared and out of the trees came a barreling werewolf, heading right for Jake and Dean. It moved too fast for Alana to freeze time, Tate to call more lightning or Sam to pull out a silver bullet filled gun. Tate's scared scream filled the air as the wolf leapt on the two and was mixed in with the roar of thunder and the loud ringing of a gun being fired.


	13. Author's Note Two

Hey Guys!

A Chapter and a Note! What an update….yeah, yeah, its been a long day and I needed a cheap laugh. Anyways, its coming to that time again, Dark Roads is almost done. I think I have about four more chapters, one all ready written and ready to be typed. Most likely tomorrow night. So, here's where you guys come in, once again. I have about four sets of ideas/notes for more stories and with the help of my creative team and if you guys give me the "green light" so to speak, I'll start working on it.

So, let me know if you want to deal with Tate and her lovely new powers in another story or not. Lol.

thanks so much.

B.E.


	14. Bloody Full Moon

**For those of you who are keeping score at home, the last chapter was supposed to be chapter 10, not 9; I goofed up and forgot to change it since I used the same file. So 'Chained and Let Loose' is 1o and this is 11. Lets call it a "technical error" lol. And yes, I've updated twice in a matter of hours. I'm still not sure which "Dark" set of notes I'm going to use, but by the end of this story, I'll know. So onto the next chapter. Keep reading and reviewing and letting me know what you think. **

**Chapter 11- Bloody Full Moon **

Tate's scream died down when she saw Dean push away the literal dead weight of the werewolf and let the gun in his hand tumble to the ground. Falling to her knees, like a saint dropping down to pray, she knelt down beside him in the wet ground and before she could reach for him, was pulled into his arms.

"Jesus Dean! Don't do that again!"

"Kill the bad guy? Tate…" She could hear the smirk in his voice and was tempted to slap him.

"No, almost get yourself killed."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you were helping Jake. Jake?" She called, bending around Dean and brushing Jake's shoulder.

"Jake. Jake. Jake, come on. We're gonna get you out of here." Dean said, nudging him after every word. But when he didn't respond, Dean made out the distinct sound of Sam coming up next to him and Tate's breath hitching. Sam dropped a hand onto Tate's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, trying to ease her panic away.

"Jake, come on." Dean tried again, but again nothing happened.

"Dean…" Sam said, his voice wavering over the letters of his brother's name and wished he sounded more sure of the situation for Tate. She reached for him and this time, gently rolled Jake towards her. A huge slash opened his abdomen, allowing the trio around him to see directly into his stomach cavity and caused Tate to gag, her eyes watering.

"Ta…Tate." He rasped, looking up and reaching out for his former fiancée

"Yeah Jakey?" Tate asked her own voice cracking and tried not to cry.

"You…you know…I love you…right?"

"Yeah babe, I know. Shh, don't worry about telling me that right now, just worry about staying calm until we get you outta here." She said, brushing her hand slowly across his face.

"Ta…do me a…a favor okay?"

"Yeah, anything."

"Give…give my…my badge to ma."

"Jake…Jake, don't talk like that."

"Please…say you will."

"I will."

"That's my girl…I…I always knew you were different and…and I knew I'd never…be able to keep you….keep you happy. Dean…Dean, take care of her." Dean nodded and Tate, with tears in her eyes and rain falling, called Nero over.

"Nero poof him. Take him to the hospital. Don't let him die."

"Tatum…"

"Nero! Do it!" She yelled, thunder crashing over head and a streak of vivid blue lightning cracking over head, lighting the park up like a night club. A moment later, when they were gone and all that was left of Jake was a few traces of blood, Tate fell forward onto the hard ground beneath her and cried; the sky cried with her. The ran came down harder than it had in days, pricking at the skin on Dean's face and biting the back of Sam's neck. The wind blew through the park with the velocity to rip trees from the ground and if, if and only if, Alana wasn't prepared, it would've knocked her to the ground. The lightning wailed and bellowed, singing a haunting melody as it connected with the air, screeching and shrieking. The sky lit up in different colors, reds, blues and greens, the lightning coming down like strobe lights. With one last heart and body breaking sob from Tate, the thunder over head came to life, rumbling over the next wave of sound behind it; shaking the earth below and making Sam and Dean shudder, the vibrations coming up through their shoes. Alana stood there, awestruck by the awesome display of power erupting from the younger woman.

"Dean, stop her. The weather is going haywire." Alana said calmly, her own powers slowing down the winds that snapped and bit viciously around the four. Dean, doing as the immortal woman said so, collected Tate's shaking form and pulled her into him, his jacket smothering sobs and wails, collecting tears that held memories of Tate and Jacob and let them wash down onto the earth under their feet.

"Tate…shh. Shh. Baby, everything will be fine. I promise you."

"Dean, I was supposed to protect him too! If I can't protect him what does that mean for you, Sammy and Fancy? Those bastards could take you away from me too!"

"Shh, shh. Not now. Lets take you home. We can deal with this in the morning." He felt her nod against his shoulder and then watched her finger clench around his upper arm, not hard enough to hurt but enough pressure to make him realize she needed him.

"Dean, I don't want to loose Jacob. I can't. Part of me still loves him." She said before breaking off into more tears, more tears pelting Dean's coat as a pang of jealous ran through him. "Christ…just imagine if you had been where Jake was standing. Dean…I'd, I'd…I dunno what I'd be. I can tell you, worse than I am now. Dean, I love you so much. And I know I don't say it enough."

"Guys, this moment is cute and all, but we need to either leave or find the werewolves." Sam said, pulling out the keys to the Impala.

"We're going. We can not get them one the sun's up. We have no idea what they look like." Alana said, making her way toward the tree line.

"I know what they look like; I saw them when they took me somewhere deeper into the woods. They must've knocked me because I came to in the old stables. So they must be around there somewhere." Tate said, standing up and sticking close to Dean.

"We'll come back in the morning or whenever and check out the stables. You said they left you there, so there has to be some significant reason why they left you there."

"A reason? To make my allergies kick up?" She asked Sam, her signature smile on her lips as if the break down and freakish weather never happened.

"Yeah, I'm sure that was the reason." Sam said stepping into line in the wet footprints Alana had left behind. As the four walked toward the cars, Dean draped his arm across Tate's shoulders and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple; a silent 'I love you'. Tate leaned into him and bumped him with her hip, smiling when he bumped her back. Yeah, they were good.

Coming to the curb where the cars sat, Tate dropped the Mustang's keys into Dean's hand and walked over to her crimson beauty, Scarlet. Her father had named the car long before he even thought of giving it to his daughter and when he told her the name, he asked if she wanted to change it. Tate disagreed and kept her baby's name. She leaned against Scarlet's passenger's side down, crossed her legs at the ankles and yawned, waiting for the boys. Sam and Dean made arrangements, decided whether it was best to go home or to the hospital. Alana walked up slowly to the younger Wycker and smiled at her.

"Tatum, if you need anything find me young one." She said, pressing her hand over Tate's heart and then walking down the sidewalk, nodding silent goodbyes to the boys before disappearing in the dark streets. Dean left Sam, nodding towards the Impala and then walked right into Tate, his legs on either side of hers. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Are you all right?"

"I will be." He cocked an eye brow. "Dean, I mean it. I'll be fine, its just not everyday I see something like that happen to someone I actually know."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I'm sure. All I want to do now is go home, call Fancy and then go to sleep. And if you're good, you can sleep with me." She said, smiling and then darting out to kiss him on the cheek. Pulling open the door behind her, she slid into the car and leaned forward, resting her head on the dash. Sighing, she felt a hand on her back and leaned back into the touch, smiling when Dean let out a yelp when she caught his hand between her body and the chair.

"Let go Tate."

"Fine." She leaned forward again and let him go, watching as he dropped his hands onto the wheel.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I'll be fine. Just drive Winchester." She said, leaning back in the seat and putting her head back. She dozed in and out, coming to every time Dean 'accidentally' turned the radio up louder or took a turn too fast. She woke up right before Dean killed the engine in the hotel's parking lot to the growing familiar sound of Nero 'poofing' into the back of the Mustang.

Tate, with sleep filled eyes, turned and looked at the man behind her. His dark gold eyes were downcast and found something interesting under the front seat to stare at. Reaching back to him, Tate gently lifted his chin and brought him eye level to her.

"Nero?"

"I'm so very sorry Tatum." He said, handing her Jake's police badge, the gold chain he wore with a cross and his father's wedding band hanging from it and the ear ring he wasn't supposed to wear while on duty. She wrapped the chain around her hand, put the ear ring in her pocket and gently caressed the badge as a light rain began to patter against the windshield.


	15. Black and White

**I decided to break the end of the story down to three chapters; this one, another that take places in the park and then the last one. I originally planned only two chapters, but this one worked too well without the whole "final fight" in the park, so I left it the way it is. Anyways, I hope you guys like it and the song lyrics at the end don't belong to me, its "How to Save a Life" by The Fray. So, keep reading and reviewing. thanks.**

**Chapter 12-Black and White**

The day of Jacob's funeral, it rained. It didn't rain because Tate made it, she only made it come down a little harder when ever she started to cry, it rained because the clouds rolled in before anyone parked in the church parking lot and the sky decided just as the ceremony began to open up. The service at the church had been beautiful; if you could call a funeral service beautiful and Tate had given a speech on the first time she and Jake met, and then spoke about their first date and everything that happened between them up until the night before in the park. She didn't dare say she knew the true reason of his death, Nero had told the doctors it was a car accident that Jake had wrapped himself around a pole.

A swift pinging of rain on her skin brought Tate back from the hour before and back to the event at hand. Patty, Jake's mother, had demanded that everyone dress respectful but casual and the only ones who were truly dressed up were Jake's fellow officers, each officer came dressed in his or her dress-blues. Tate was wore a plain black long sleeved shirt, a black knee length skirt and a pair of simple yet elegant black high heels. Her long hair was swept up into a high pony tail and kept her eyes forward, never looking anywhere other than the blurry far away vision of Weston Park. Patty Kirk sat next to her and on Patty's left sat Richy and his wife; their two kids were with a friend of his. Fancy sat on the other side of Tate and the two girls held hands, each not daring to move away from the other. Fancy's outfit was toned down so much that she didn't even look like herself. Her make-up was almost neutral, with just a little dab of purple, and her eyes with run of the mill brown, not funny colored contacts in. Her hair was straightened and held away from her face by a simple tortoise shell clip. She was dressed similar to Tate, a plain black shirt with a charcoal colored rib length jacket over it, a pair of black flared pants and a pair of stylish boots. Sam and Dean stood toward the back, not apart of the 'family' like Tate and Fancy and stood with the acquaintances, not with the best friends.

Black umbrellas filled the field before Jake's plot and with shaky steps; people began walking toward his coffin for a last goodbye and leave a flower on the casket. Tate watched Richy walk stiffly up to his little brothers casket and felt a scalding hot tear run down her face when she saw him start to cry. Then his wife Allie followed, followed by Jake's girlfriend Vicky and then it was Patty's turn.

"Tate dear?"

"Yeah Pat?"

"I want you and Fancy to come with me."

"Of course Mrs. Kirk." Fancy said as the two stood in front of the woman who treated them like the daughters she never had. The three walked up hand in hand and each took a turn saying goodbye. Tate hung back as Fancy said goodbye; she had never once in the five years she had known her, seen her cry. The bar had been broken into and needed too much in repairs, she had been beaten by an ex-boyfriend and all those times, she had never shed a tear. Fancy joined Tate a minute later to give Patty a moment to herself.

"This wasn't a car accident and I know you were there Tatum." Fancy whispered.

"You're right, it wasn't car accident and I was there, I was the last person he spoke to before he died."

"Christ Tate, you're telling me what happened."

"Not here. At the bar when we have the reception." The Kirk's home was too small to fit everyone that had come to the funeral, so Fancy had offered them the bar and said she would supply food and non-alcoholic drinks.

"Fine, but you're telling me. And how come I have this feeling that Sam and Dean were there too?"

"Because they were. Now excuse me, I have to say goodbye to Jake." She said as Patty came back and hugged Fancy; Tate could hear 'Ma' sobbing from her new spot by Jake's coffin.

"Hey Jake, what am I going to do without you? I know I have Dean and love him so much, but what about you? I'll always love you. I told you that so many times while we were together, but I never told you all about me. You were right when you said I was different, I just never told you how different. I should've told you Jake, but I figured 'I love you' would've made up for what I never said. With me and Dean, it's the opposite, we know the truth and say 'I love you' only when we have to. I should've told you the truth Jake, about the dark and what's out there. Even if you hadn't believed me you still would've known and I could've protected you better. I am so sorry Jacob. I should've protected you better baby. I love you Jake." She said, wiping her eyes dry and turning to leave. As she turned, she saw Fancy crying on Sam's shoulder, her dark head resting against his arm, her body shaking with each sob. Tate was two steps closer to grabbing Fancy away from Sam when a familiar hand wrapped around her elbow; Dean.

"Leave her alone baby. Sammy's got her." Dean said, pulling her against his chest. "Let her cry this one out. Its probably best for them both, Sam isn't over Jess yet, you know that."

"I know he's not, he loved her. Fancy loved Jake, she always did, probably more than I did."

"You loved him." Dean said, tightening his grip on her.

"I did and I probably always will."

"I know that."

"Dean, I love you so much more though. So much more than anyone else. But this, this ends tonight." She said, starring at the fuzzy horizon line where the park sat. It began to rain harder.

xXxXx

The Mustang roared through the rainy streets of Boston again and again Tate directed the car toward Weston Park; Fancy sat in the passenger's seat toying with the radio. She was still too quiet; still damp looking with no make up and in jeans and a long sleeved shirt with her leather jacket over her shoulders. Her hair was pulled into a tiny pony tail with the wispy ends curling around her ears and kept her eyes locked on the dash board.

"Fance…?"

"I'm fine Kingy, I'll be okay." She said, putting on a local station that played everything from Techno to Country, Classic Rock to Paris Hilton. The static kicked in when lightning appeared in the sky and went away when the white jagged strike. Just after the two fell into a somewhat strained and comfortable silence, the song on the radio changed and on came "How to Save a Life" by The Fray. When Tate came to the stop light, she let the lyrics wash over her and felt herself being tugged into a memory; her hands falling into auto pilot and steering the car with glassy eyes.

_Step one you say we need to talk  
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk  
He smiles politely back at you  
You stare politely right on through  
Some sort of window to your right  
As he goes left and you stay right  
Between the lines of fear and blame  
And you begin to wonder why you came _

Jake had picked Tate up from work; she remembered how sexy he looked behind the wheel of her crimson baby and smiled when he held the door open for her. She easily slid across the leather, denim giving way and slipping across like silk. When Jake pulled into the Hilton parking lot he wrapped a blindfold over those odd colored eyes of Tate's and whispered, 'Trust me, you're safe.' And she was safe. She felt him leading her through the familiar lobby and then felt the familiar shake of the elevator starting its flight up to her apartment. When the door opened, the scents of her jasmine candles and something that smelt a whole hell of a lot better than whatever she could cook hit her nose; Jake was up to something. With his hands still on her shoulders, she was sat down at the dining room table and soon color and light flooded back to her.

"Look down." Doing as she was told, she looked down onto the expensive dishes she had spent too much on and saw a small black box sitting there; something that felt like a boulder fell into her stomach and she went cold.

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life  
_

The ring looked almost tailor made for her ring finger, not too big and far from too small; perfect almost. She had always expected something flawed and gaudy, but this was all too perfect. It made her insides crawl, her life was far from perfect and she had grown used to flawed things.

"Well?" Jake asked, looking at her with those warm excited eyes, his eyes brows posed in more of a question that the small word his lips had wrapped around. She didn't know what to say, she could yes but then she'd have to explain the phone call she had gotten from John earlier that and telling him why she'd have to take off to meet up with him in California. And if she said no, he was gone. It was simple, like ripping away a band aid, he'd leave and she'd be left to pick up the pieces. She took a deep breath and reached for the box with one hand and Jake with the other. Finger tips gently pushed the faux velvet covered lid down onto the bottom piece with a snap and looked at him.

"I'm sorry Jake, but no. I can't."

"Okay, that's…that's cool."

"Jake, I'm sorry. I just can't right now, I'm not ready. I have too many things to take care of right now. I mean, my dad, I have to find my dad."

"I…I understand completely Tate. Just forget this happened."

_Let him know that you know best  
Cause after all you do know best  
Try to slip past his defense  
Without granting innocence  
Lay down a list of what is wrong  
The things you've told him all along  
And pray to God he hears you  
And pray to God he hears you _

The next day they broke up; Jake moved back into his old place that his friend was staying at the time and Tate went through the place like a whirl wind, tearing away everything that screamed "Tate&Jake" and put back up everything that was just Tate. Even the walls she had created for herself were back, firmly installed back into their original places.

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life…. _

The sound of the engine slowly ticking down, going from a loud roar to a dying whimper and the song faded away and then came the outside sounds of the park coming in through Fancy's open door and the rap of knuckles on the window. Tate rested her head on the steering wheel and sighed when she felt the door open on her side and Dean shove himself onto her seat, pulling her close.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, we can come back tomorrow."

"And have those animals kill someone else? No. No one else is dying Dean. I mean it. Can you do me a favor and get the extra thing of silver bullets from the trunk?"

"Of course." Then he was gone and Tate flopped back against the seat, the sound of something jingling caught her attention. The necklace she had tucked her shirt had come free from its hiding place. It was the chain Jake used to wear with his grandfather's cross and his dad's wedding band; Tate had added the small hoop earring he wore onto it earlier that morning before the funeral. Tucking it back under her thermal, she stepped out of the car and walked back to the trunk, taking two guns Dean had loaded with the silver. Nodding, she walked over to Fancy, who stood with Nero and Alana, who had just appeared thanks to Nero and caught the bar tenders attention.

"Here. Its loaded Fance with silver."

"A werewolf huh? I'm glad it doesn't sound so crazy when I say it out loud." Tate smiled and the six walked into the park; breaking away into threes. Sam, Fancy and Alana went one way and Tate, Dean and Nero went the other.

"For Jake." Both Tate and Fancy muttered as they began their trek through the dark, hunting down the animals that lurked in the shadows.


	16. Lightning Strikes

**Chapter 13- Lightning Strikes**

"_So this is where you came to?"_

"_Right; in the stables." Tate said, pointing to the map Sam had pulled up on her laptop._

"_The stables? Behind there is a bunch of old caves, they're all connected." Fancy said as Dean came up behind where they were sitting on the living room floor. _

"_How do you know that?"_

"_I have two older brothers, they used to take me there and "loose" me. I know my way around." Fancy said as Tate tried not to laugh. _

"_All right, so we're splitting up. Me and Fancy'll go together to the caves and you and Dean go to the stables." Sam said, standing up and going with Dean to get things ready. Once the girls were alone, Tate looked at Fancy and smiled. _

"_We'll find the thing that killed Jake, Fance." _

xXxXx

Tate's eyes adjusted to the heavy darkness around the stables and took the safety off her gun. She felt a shift of power and knew Nero was getting ready for whatever that could pop out at them.

"So are we going in or just gonna stand here all night?" Dean asked, walking toward the burnt, caved in doorway to the stables.

"Dean, you can't just go barreling in there! The wolves are going to be pissed because I think I killed someone of importance in the pack!"

"She's right Dean, who knows what's behind that door." Nero said, following the older Winchester. "I'll go in first." Dean went to fight him, tell him he could handle himself, but Tate stopped him and pulled him back by the belt loops.

"Let him Dean, he can always 'poof' out if something happens."

"Fine."

Nero came back out a few minutes later and waved them in. The stables were lit up, sickly pale green flood lights hung from the charred and broke rafters and some hung down low from the beams that made up the loft floor over head. In the new found light Tate could make out what looked like a house in shambles; a run down living room complete with a duct taped couch and milk crate end tables laid in front of her, a sparse kitchen behind that and on the other side were several mattress littering the cold floor. She figured there was more to the 'house' upstairs.

"Do you think anyone's here?" Dean asked, keeping an eye on Tate as she roamed the 'living room'.

"Oh we're here Winchester." A man's voice boomed from the loft. "Look what we have here; a Winchester and two of the most powerful Wyckers. Nero, where's Alana?"

"She's not here Rex. And you won't find her." Tate watched the werewolf she recognized from the night before, before Nero had even called to him. She remembered the too tall bulging frame as one of the men who had dragged her to the stables. She had seen him before she blacked out. Out of the shadows came a twitchy smaller form and she watched him walk over to Rex to whisper something in his ear.

"She is here Nero; we have her and two others; a young man and woman." Dean and Tate nearly jumped over Nero, doing anything to get to the ladder to the loft and take care of the bastard themselves.

"Let them go! They have nothing to do with this!" Tate screamed, lightning cracking outside.

"They have silver bullet loaded guns little Wycker, they have something to do with this."

"Rex, Sam and Fancy have nothing to do with this. Tate's telling you the truth." Nero said calmly, Dean on the other hand was practically seething.

"I'll give you those two of Alana and the little Wycker."

"Like hell you will." Dean shouted his finger on the trigger and aimed clearly for Rex's chest.

"Winchester, you don't get it do you? She killed our pack leader; we're going to kill her."

"Over my dead body. Nero move or I'll shoot right through you, Tate get over here." Tate crept slowly back towards Dean, her body flush up against him.

"Nero, you're going to let this hunter kill me, big brother?" Rex cooed stepping out of the shadows and Tate saw the similarities that she hadn't seen in the moon light the previous night.

"If needs be." Nero growled.

"Bring me the Wycker and the other two!" Rex bellowed and a moment a good portion of the pack came out surrounding Alana, Sam and Fancy. Two very wolfish looking men pushed Sam and Fancy toward Nero and in exchange, grabbed Tate roughly by the elbows. Two other men held Alana in the same fashion.

"Rex! We never agreed to this!"

"Big brother, we're doing things a life for two lives. Kris for Tate and Alana. Not only do I get my revenge, I get rid of two Wyckers, one very powerful one and the most powerful and I get rid of the threat. Boys, bring Tatum to me. Nero, hold back the older Winchester, if you don't, I'll shoot him."

Tate was roughly flung into Rex's arms and watched Nero stop Dean. Rex's huge arms locked around Tate and quickly, locked eyes with Dean. The looked screamed 'I know what I'm doing'. She looked at each of the men surrounding her; they each wore something silver on them.

Closing her eyes, she saw a lightning chain of bright white hot light strike each werewolf; heating up whatever piece of silver they wore and poured more power into the electricity. When she opened her eyes, she saw the lightning come down and run the circuit she created in her mind, going through each wolf; literally lighting Rex up like a Christmas tree. Nothing touched Alana or Tate; the lightning seemed to skip over them. When the power drained and the eardrum shattering roar of the lightning died, Tate locked eyes with Dean and for a moment, Tate swore fear flicked across his eyes.

The grip Rex had on Tate and the others had on Alana fell away; each wolf Tate had lit up dropped to the ground. Alana slipped away from her "guards" and over to Tate.

"Impressive little one, very impressive."

"We have to leave; there are a few more wolves still in the woods." Nero said, untying Fancy.

Tate walked over the mess she has caused and into Dean's arms, a static shock jumping off her shoulder and onto his hand when he touched her. She laughed a little at the small hiss he made and gave him a quick kiss, another shock jumping between their lips.

"Guys, now." Sam said, ushering everyone out. The six made their way back to where they had parked the cars in silence; each going over what they had just seen and felt.

"We'll be around if you need us Tatum." Nero said, giving her a brief hug.

"Yes, we'll be here. If you need us, just shout. But I doubt you will for awhile, you have such a handle on your powers already." Alana said, walking off into the darkness, Nero's hand wrapped around hers and then poof; they were gone.

Sam and Dean watched the girls duck into the Mustang and headed to the Impala when they heard the music kick on. The brothers sat in the Impala and watched the Mustang slowly pull away. Sam turned to Dean and sighed.

"She's….she's something else." Sam said but Dean barely acknowledged him; just started the car and followed the Mustang.

"Dean? Dean did you hear me?"

"Yeah Sammy, I heard ya."

"And?"

"And, you're right. She is something else."

"You're scared." Sam stared; Dean paused and looked at his brother when they got to the stop light.

"Yeah, yeah I am."

xXxXx

Tate lay on the bed, her hair drying and, thanks to the static that still flew through her, freaking out; splaying out in all different directions. Everything she touched still shocked her back, but they were growing fainter with each touch. She lay with her head at the foot of the bed and watched the paddle fan above her; a pair of shorts she stole from Dean rode low on her hips and the short sleeves of his old Zeppelin shirt touched her elbows. Her whole body hurt from summoning so much power; everything from the roots of her hair to her finger nails throbbed. She wanted nothing more than to sleep for three days.

The sound of the shower running was putting her to sleep and found her eye lids dropping shut. The whole apartment was silent; Sam and Fancy were in the guest bedroom and the rest of the place was dark; everything shut down for the night. The sound of Dean's cell phone going off pulled her from drifting to sleep and with a groan, moved to get it.

Grabbing the phone, she saw he had a new text message and flipped it open to read it. It was from John; coordinates. She snapped the phone shut and dropped it onto the blanket when Dean opened the bathroom door and flipped over to watch him. He moved wordlessly across the room and then fell onto the mattress, his face disappearing in the pillows. Flopping down next to him, she pushed down the pillows and kissed his cheek. He curled around her already curled up body and pulled her close. His skin still damp and overly warm from the shower.

"Your phone went off."

"I'll check it."

"I checked it."

"And?"

"Your dad."

"Coordinates?"

"Yep." She said as he stroked the skin on her arms, a tiny shock dancing under his finger tips. "Why did you look afraid of me earlier?"

"Earlier when?"

"With the lightning."

"Oh."

"Oh, answer me."

"You scared me; you didn't see what I saw."

"And that was what?"

"Your eyes, they glowed neon purple. It scared the hell outta me. You scared me."

"I scare me."


	17. Another Goodbye

**Chapter 14-Another Goodbye**

Tate rocked back and forth on the chunky heels of her combat boots, her hands jammed in the front pockets of her jeans and chewed on her bottom lip, carefully avoiding the split in it and watched Sam and Dean load stuff in the back of the Impala. Sam looked up at her as the sun began to dip down below the mountains and watched it catch the red high lights in her hair, making it look ablaze and smiled at her. Tate caught his gaze and winked, stopped rocking on her heels and walked over to him. She pulled his much taller frame into a close, if she could manage it, bone crushing hug and let out a squeal when he leaned back and pulled her off the ground.

"Sam put her down. We have to get going." Dean said, slamming the trunk and coming up behind them.

"All right Dean, just let me say goodbye." He said, dropping Tate back down the two and a half feet he had pulled her away from the ground. Tate watched Dean roll his eyes and then head back to the car, messing with something in the front seat.

"Take care of him while you guys are gone. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"That's gonna be hard Tate, he's always doing something stupid."

"I know, but try at least."

"I will and give Fancy my cell phone number."

"Of course I will, just so she stops calling my place looking for you." She said, brushing back a piece of hair. They smiled at each other again and the time Sam stooped down and gave her a real hug, no pulling her off the ground or anything.

"I'm gonna miss you Tate."

"Hey, this isn't permanent. I'll meet up with you guys or you meet me, either way we'll be back together in a few weeks."

"I know, I just hate leaving you. I worry about you all alone."

"Don't worry and I'm never all alone, I have Fancy, Nero and Alana. And Richy and the rest of the police force. I'll be fine. And since when are goodbyes between us permanent? Never."

"I know." He said; squeezing her a little tighter and she squeezed back as best she could.

"I'm gonna miss you too Sammy." She let him go a few minutes later and looked up, patting him on the side of the face as he stood up straight. "Get in the car before Dean tries to burn holes in the back of your head with that stare."

"All right." He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and walked over to the Impala, sliding in across the vinyl. Dean looked at Tate from where he stood leaning against the trunk and laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him. She jumped down off the curb, landing dramatically in a puddle she most likely caused the night before and sent it splashing up on Dean's legs before walking over to him so she could melt against his chest.

"Am I allowed to have a chick flick moment?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his chest and sent one hand creeping up to toy with the longer strands of hair on the back of his neck.

"Just one."

"Thank you." She said, giggling a little and tugged on the long-ish blonde strands. "I'm gonna miss having you around the place. The pillow cases just started to smell like you."

"We could stay."

"Stay? Can it be true? Dean Winchester disobeying his father's latest command? I'd eat a pile of shit the day that happened." Tate said with a smile as Dean's eye brows knotted and a cold look graced his features. "Knock that off or you're face'll stay that way." She said, running the pad of her thumb over his cheek bone.

"I want to stay."

"I know you do babe, but that message your dad left sounded like he needed you guys. You're going to go, no matter what, no fighting." She said as Dean sighed. "Go and then come back, I'll be here."

"You're right."

"I'm always right. But it's true, the pillow cases and a good portion of my bed just started to smell like you and now you're leaving. What am I going to do? I'll have to sleep on the couch, I don't need my bed smelling like my perfume and Ode' de Dean." She said, tugging at his flannel sleeve.

"You won't sleep on the couch I know you; you'll sleep on my side and hug the pillow all night."

"Most likely." She said, letting go of him and pulling his arms around her, sighing when he pulled her closer. Tate looked down at the pavement and starred at their shadows, they almost looked like one form in the inky shape that covered the sidewalk. "Next time you two come here, stay. Just stay. No ghosts, no monsters, no demons, no annoying ex-future brother in laws, no funerals, no real jobs and no text messages from dads. Just stay."

"You know I'll try."

"Because you love me." She said in a girly high pitched, sing song voice that she knew grated Dean's nerves.

"Yeah, yeah, I do."

"I love you too." She told him as she reached up and kissed him in the center of his collar bone, right where the bone itself dipped and concaved. It was something only she did and could get away with, something no one other than her ever dared to do and something Dean never let any other do. The two had had their fair share of "significant others" but like well played instruments, only they knew what notes they could and couldn't play, either resulting in a horrid squeal or something far better than any well composed symphony.

With a small amount of tears hanging from her mascara covered eye lashes, she swiped away the water-works, leaving behind an ebony streak the back of her hand and tugged him down to her, lips meeting softly. It was one of those rare, few and far between goodbye kisses that they stock piled for moments just like that and it was over just as quick as it began. Tate squeezed herself back in between Dean's chest and his arms and dropped her head onto the center of the broad plain of muscle. Her overly pierced, jewel and hoop encrusted ear flattened out against the solid divider of skin and tissues and listened to the steady beat of Dean's heart; mentally cataloguing it for a night when she wouldn't be able to fall asleep to the constant almost muted drone of her television.

"Get in that car Winchester before I start bawling, it starts to pour and I find ways to make you stay." She said, taking another swipe at her eyes. Wiping the black streaks onto her back pockets, she got one last kiss on the cheek, watched Dean slip into his beloved car and took back to gnawing on her lip, the rocking on her heels started up again. A few minutes later, with one last wave, the car rumbled away and she just stood there for a minute, wishing she had Alana's powers and could freeze the boys from leaving. Once the Impala was far enough out of sight, Tate headed inside and took the overly familiar route back up to her apartment. She breezed past hotel employees, gave fast and empty greetings to people she knew and thanked whatever she believed in when the elevator doors shut behind her; leaving her alone with nothing but stock piano music and her thoughts.

xXxXx

Tate slid down the muddy hill of the Alumni Green, her hand grouping around in the dark and let out a string of loud curses when she lost her footing; almost slamming into Sam.

"Tate, I gotcha." Sam said, grabbing her by the elbow and putting her back on her feet.

"Why did we have to come at night? We can usually slip past the cops without being seen or just blend in." She hissed at the back of Dean's head as the three made their way down to the roped off crime seen that sat in front of Harriman Hall. The crime scene was a good 10x10 square of grass and in the center was one of the many SUNY Orange emergency phones. Each phone linked the college campus to the nearest police station, fire department and anything else needed when an emergency arose, including the school's own security station.

"Just calm down Tate and ease up on the rain." Dean said as he ducked under the yellow police tape.

"I'm not making it rain, its just raining. I can control the weather but I can't control something that's already been set into motion…idiot."

"I heard that." He said as Sam laughed.

"Glad you have such sharp hearing. Did you hear me in the car before when I said that I can get us through with my press pass in the morning?"

"Tate, you lost your job. That press pass isn't gonna work much longer and someone will find out."

"I didn't loose my job, I quit. And one day Winchester, the cops are gonna drag you in for credit card fraud after they find out all about the ones you have in the glove box."

"Guys, can you stop fighting and start working? Even though I don't think this is something we need to check out, we're here so we might as well." Sam said with a groan as he slipped under the police tape and followed Dean, the EMF reader in hand. Tate rolled her eyes and followed the boys, bending gracefully at the waist and slipping under the yellow tape. The mud was already caking the toes of her new boots, but when she dipped to slide into the crime scene she saw just how much had accumulated since she stepped onto the New York state school's campus and felt a sigh build up in her throat.

"Tate, can you do something about the mud?"

"Dean, we're going to go over this one last time, I control the stuff that turns the dirt to mud, not the mud and all that other crap. So no, I can not do something about the mud. Can we just get this over with? Its cold and my jacket is soaked." She said as she flipped her hood up and covered her hair.

She fell back, letting the guys do what they did best and she did what she did best, took pictures and stayed out of the way. She eventually slipped out of the crime scene, going out the other side and walked along the cement pathway, going past different buildings and looking at their shadow covered outside walls, trying to find the names. She went passed Harriman Hall, The Sarah Wells Building and Orange Hall, going up the other side of the walk way and came to a clearing full of gardens and old green houses. Amazed by the beauty of the place and the way the flood lights glow painted across the garden, she found herself in a trance and walked into the small space. The lighting wasn't the best, but she didn't care she could always come back in the morning and take the pictures over. Tate just stood there, taking pictures of the moon painted flowers, the curling ivy and other plant life.

Tate had been in the gardens for a few minutes when she heard a gun shot ring out, closely followed by one more. The echoing sound startled her, her lens cap fell to the shadow coated ground below and without even looking for it, she took off; running clear across the campus back to the emergency phone. Her boots thudded loudly, matching the sound of her heart slamming against her ribs, as she leapt over a line of bushes, getting closer to the phone when she heard another gun shot; that was three. By the time she crossed the lawns, lungs shrieking in protest, each breath burning and her knees quaking, another shot rang in her ears; making four if her math was done correctly and skidded to a halt, almost toppling over herself, when she saw a shadowy form standing over from where she stood, Dean. The man, the figure was clearly male, pulled the trigger and only received several clicks in response, the magazine was empty. She could see Sam a few feet away from Dean, backed up against the police tape; eyes locked on Dean's probably dying form, and saw the man reach out for Sam. A second later, the gun Sam had in the waist of his jeans was in the man's hand, he had summoned the 9 mm. Another bullet rocketed from the gun and added another entry wound to Dean's chest; five bullets burning through flesh and skin.

"That young Winchester is a warning for the Wycker." The man said as the gun fell to the ground and he vanished in a wisp of black smoke. As soon as the image and the words played over in Tate's head for the fifth time, a shriek tore from her throat and her legs worked again, running over to Dean; Sam met her there.

"Oh my God! Sammy!" She screamed, looking down at Dean. There was no way to help him, he was gone and she was too late, the lights had all died in his eyes, and slowly his body was joining the extinguished fires. With shaky hands, already covered in blood from trying to pull him into her arms, she traced the five bullet wounds with her finger tip; the way they were arranged made a W. Tate had just played connect the dots on his chest.

"A warning for the Wycker." She whispered as she fell into Sam's arms, the rain pouring down with such force it left welts on their exposed skin and sobbed, her body shaking as Sam held her; silent tears pouring from his own eyes.

**The End**


	18. Last Author's Note

Last Author's Note, I Promise

Sorry if you guys have read those chapters twice, I have a bad habit of updating on the nights the site goes down. So I have re-update everything. Anyways, if you're here, you've gotten to the end of **Dark Roads**. And without giving anything away if you haven't read the last two chapters yet, lets just say I really Cliffhanger-ed it.

I don't want to give anything away for **Dark Grounds**, aka part Three of this...this whatever it is. But I'll leave you guys with a hint:

See ya in **Dark Grounds**. Thanks so much for reading **Dark Room **and **Dark Roads**.

Love,  
B.E


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